Unbreakable
by DuckiePray
Summary: Seven months after "Fearless", a violent act in a foreign country kicks off one of the most dangerous journeys of our hero's lives. Will strength and loyalty be enough to help them stand, when loved ones are separated in an unfriendly wilderness?
1. Prologue

Donatello tried desperately to control his own breathing and heart-rate as he ran, but it was a losing battle. The guns behind them still didn't lend them the option of stopping, but the fiery pain in the back of his leg was also making it more difficult for him to keep going at their current pace. The purple-masked turtle had followed Raphael blindly back into the brush several minutes prior, without a clue if they were even traveling in the correct direction anymore.

Leonardo hadn't even so much as stirred from the grip that Donatello was carrying him in yet. At the time that they'd taken off, protecting their brother and their own shells had been their driving thought. But with passing minutes had come further anxiety, and Donatello found himself wondering where the others were, or if they'd managed to reassemble safely. He couldn't answer either question, so it seemed futile to focus on it right then.

Donatello needed all the concentration he could muster to keep sight of Raphael running ahead of him in the semi-darkness with the other man, and the fight to keep what was becoming a shaky balance over the rough terrain was distracting him. All the while he was also listening, straining to pick up any sounds behind or around them. He didn't want to overreact to them - it could just as easily be Michelangelo or one of the others tracking them down, as it could be one of the gun-toting men. He simply felt the need to be prepared for _anything_ at this point.

Leonardo's worthless radio shifted on Donny's belt along with his jaunty step, and he cursed the mortar round that had knocked it out. Things hadn't gone exactly according to the plan. That is to say that running blindly through the trees with God knows how much fire power behind them hadn't been on anyone's agenda for that early morning mission.

As Donatello crashed through another set of over-hanging limbs, he heard the sound of faint whistling overhead, which only took half a beat to click with the turtle again. "GUYS, DOWN!" He shouted as he lunged to the earth himself, covering his oldest brother's prone body with his own.

The mortar shell exploded somewhere in the middle of the space that separated him from the other two. When the purple-masked turtle looked back up through the clearing smoke, he was both irritated and relieved to see his red-masked brother standing over him and Leonardo.

"Didn't you hear me _yelling_ at you?" Donatello demanded, as he struggled upright with the most difficulty yet, a fact that didn't escape Raphael.

"You _are_ hurt!" His brother said accusingly.

"I'll make it!" Donatello shot back through gritted teeth, taking a second to swipe once more at a blood trail that was nearly running into his eye. "We've got to keep going. Where's your guy Raph?"

"I told 'im to stay put. Donny, I can handle Leo for you. Why don't you just concentrate on getting _yourself_ around?"

"I told you, I'm alright," the purple-masked turtle insisted, reaching for his blue-masked brother on the ground. "Somebody's got to have their hands free to fight Raph!"

Raphael shook his head at his stubborn younger brother, but his appraising glance seemed satisfied that Donatello was capable of continuing. "You've gotta speak up if you need help Donny."

"I will Raph. Now can we get moving again _before _they catch up with us?"

Donatello shifted Leonardo into a more secure grasp, and mentally prepared himself for the knifing pain of the shrapnel that was embedded in his leg. Then he intentionally cleared all thought of pain from his mind as he fell into step behind Raphael, continuing to feed off the pure adrenaline that was racing through him. Donatello stayed close to the red-masked turtle as he led the way to where he'd left their companion, but he wasn't prepared for the mighty swear that escaped his older brother.

Donatello was about to chide him for the unnecessary noise, when he saw the _source _of Raphael's sudden consternation. The human was lying face-down in the small clearing, at a disturbingly unnatural angle. Neither turtle hesitated any longer, both rushing to get to his side. Donatello was slightly behind Raphael, and had to take a couple more seconds to put Leonardo down before he could join the red-masked turtle, who was already carefully shifting the man onto his back.

"Easy Raph, watch his head!" Donatello proclaimed, as he shot to his feet so fast that his left leg almost gave out on him entirely.

Raphael was bent over the man anxiously, so that Donatello couldn't even get a good look at him. "Give me some space Raph, you have to let me see him!"

"I knew he got shot Donny, I knew he was hurt! He said he could keep going, he was talking like it was okay!"

The red-masked turtle still hadn't moved, and Donatello was losing patience. "Raph, let me in there! Where was he..." The turtle trailed off slowly when he saw the location of the two rounds the man had taken.

He probed the make-shift wrap on his side to find it completely soaked through, as if he'd been bleeding out the entire time they'd been running. More disconcerting than that discovery was the lack of rising in his chest, indicating that he wasn't breathing.

"_No_," Donatello said softly under his breath, searching the man further with his hands to convince himself that part of the human was still alive. The further probing only revealed the complete lack of a heart-beat as well.

He furiously pumped the human's chest, unwilling to accept that the man could already be too far gone for his efforts to do any good. Raphael struggled to apply stronger pressure to bleeding around the CPR his brother was performing. Every minute that passed left Donatello more desperate, as he received no response from the man beneath him on the ground.

Donatello felt a tense hand on his shoulder, jarring him away from the life-saving activity he was still committed to.

"Donny, something's closing in on us," the red-masked turtle stated flatly, as both sai leaped to his grasp. "We're not gonna be able to stay here."

Donatello didn't respond, acting as if he hadn't even heard him to begin with. All he could do was stare at his friend who already looked much more dead than alive - and there probably wasn't a darn thing he could do about it.

* * *

Everything seemed to be happening in fast-forward to the orange-masked turtle. One minute he'd been running along behind the young woman, doing his best to shield her from the gunfire. In the next they'd been forced to face limited options, and none seemed very desirable. Her own reaction to the choices had caused Michelangelo to make the decision quickly on his own, and take the type of action that he wished he'd had just a little bit of time to actually think over first.

The fall itself was the only period that seemed to slow time down, as the turtle mentally prayed that neither of them would be killed or hurt badly upon impact. The water in this stage should have been sufficient enough to cushion their landing, but they had no guarantee of missing rocks or any other obstacle that could break something vital.

The power of the river alone was enough to take his breath away, even before it dragged him back underwater. His knee jerk reaction was to continue holding it, instinctively forcing a calm center over the panic that rose inside of him. He could hold his breath for a pretty long time if he needed to, but the same didn't apply to the young woman who'd made the trip with him, and _that _thought instantly sent him into overdrive.

The turtle clawed fiercely against the current, before remembering the correct way to do it. He immediately relaxed and stopped trying to travel in a line directly for the surface, instead straightening out his back beneath him to provide buoyancy. The move helped him to reach the surface with about a quarter of the trouble that it had been giving him to begin with.

Michelangelo drew air back into his chest with a short gasp, only able to linger on the surface of the river for a few seconds before being swept against debris that almost took an eye out. The turtle ducked back under to avoid another rough collision and then surfaced again, his vision still somewhat blurry from the first beating.

He blinked several times to try and clear his eyes, waiting for them to sharpen back into focus. At the same time, a note of panic was beginning to sound louder in his ears than the rushing water around him. Desperation to catch sight of his charge grew in intensity. The fleeting fear that he'd gotten her killed after all made his heart beat faster, and he widened his eyes forcibly to take in a better view of the portion of river ahead of him.

Michelangelo couldn't help choking as he was nearly swamped again, water finding its way accidently back into his lungs. He forced his head above the torrent once more, scanning the murky water that was almost impossible to read from the surface, let alone from beneath it. He tried to relax every muscle in his body to avoid fighting the current and tiring himself out too quickly, but he would be coming very close to throwing caution to the wind if he didn't catch some sight of her soon.

He was on the verge of outright despair when he finally saw her, or her head at least, breaking the water a couple of yards ahead of him. He gave up riding the strong current on his back and intentionally dove underneath the surface again, kicking his legs to propel him forward faster. The risk of hardly being able to see what was in front of him barely resonated in his mind, so great was his urgency to get to her.

The turtle's own weight and drive melded with the already forceful water to increase his speed, and in his haste he was flung quite unintentionally into a jutting rock. He turned his head at the last instant so that he managed not to take the blow squarely, succeeding in only side-swiping his jaw in a motion that still felt like getting slugged in the face.

Michelangelo was aware of the fact that he still needed to hold his breath, as well as the idea that someone else was still in danger, but his limbs were not immediately responding to the muddied thoughts that weren't cutting through the fog of his mind. Arms were the first thing to attempt motion in the water again, each limb feeling heavier than it should have when he tried to use it.

The water that entered his lungs was a partial wake-up call to his brain, and dazed blue eyes were alive once more. Again he struggled for the surface, gasping harder as he expelled water from his lungs a second time.

_I have to find her. I have to find her!_

Michelangelo scanned rapidly over the surface area of the water that he could see, before taking the plunge to speed up his course once more.


	2. Babysitting

*** The following adventure you're about to embark upon is a work of pure fiction, in which none of the TMNT's belong to me. However, the circumstances surrounding the country that will serve as a primary location are absolutely true, and in many cases, inspired from headlines of their current conditions abroad. When I first started conceptualizing Unbreakable, I saw the country as a destination, nothing more than a backdrop for the story to take place in. As I began my research into the tumultuous atmosphere to educate myself on the country, my focus shifted somewhat. I sincerely enjoy writing fan-fiction, and it's my hope that you enjoy reading it as well. At the same time, I'm attempting to give you a glimpse into a reality that you may have heard very little, or nothing about. While my story will not depict actual events, I have striven for accurate portrayals of what people are actually facing there even as you read this.**

**This fiction follows a continuing story-line, and contains several OC's that have been established over the course of the stories before it. I will do my best along the way to catch people up who aren't familiar with my other fics. Reviews are heartily welcomed, and seriously appreciated. **

**A big thanks to my betas who've assisted me so much with this project, Mikell, Jadedolphin, and Fire in the Ice. Taking on the help turned out to be an even more rewarding experience than I expected, and I appreciate the time you all took out of your lives to help with this little fiction of mine. If you're a writer like me, who's hesitated to take on betas in the past because of fear or intimidation, I encourage you to bite the bullet and go through with it. I wish I would have done this a long time ago.**

**With that introduction done, we can now return to the story...from the beginning.**

* * *

(Three Weeks Earlier)

The faint whimper building made the already tense red-masked turtle look around swiftly, hoping for someone to rescue him. "Hey Mikey, get in here would you?" he called a little urgently. "The kid wants you, she was asking for you!"

Michelangelo rolled his eyes at his older brother as he hurried into the living area, but he was actually more than happy to take the baby off his hands. Of all the four turtles, he'd been the most confident handling her over the last couple of months.

"Sure, you give her up when she's about to explode," the orange-masked turtle replied as he took her from him. "Aw, it's okay Reina, your uncle Raphy loves you, yes he does. He's just scared of a few tears, but it's okay. Big Mike's gotcha now."

Raphael watched with some exasperation as his brother bounced the three-month old lightly on his side, managing to get a smile out of her almost immediately. "Why does she always calm down for you? Don't tell me it's the baby talk, I'm really not there yet."

"If you'd relax with her, she'd relax too," Michelangelo explained to him, as Luke was ducking out of the Lab back into the living area.

"Are you torturing my child again Raph?" The man couldn't resist teasing the turtle, who looked back at him with something close to a forlorn expression.

"I'm tellin' you Doc, the kid doesn't like me."

"Give her a chance bro, it takes people awhile to warm up to you." Michelangelo laughed, and then resorted to patting her softly on the back, as she started getting close to tears a second time.

"She's probably hungry," Luke asserted.

The orange-masked turtle brightened at once. "You wanna take her Doc? I'll make the formula if it's handy."

"It's in the bag with the rest of her stuff - I left it in the kitchen," Luke instructed as he took the baby, and pressed her gently to his shoulder to try and calm her down while she waited.

Raphael shot a quick glance at Michelangelo as he disappeared into the kitchen, and then turned back to Luke. "How'd he get so good at this Doc? It's not like he's spent time around a baby anymore than the rest of us."

Luke shrugged without ever taking his eyes off the object of his affection. "I don't know Raph, but you can get good at it too. Don't give up so easily, you'll get there."

When Michelangelo returned with a bottle about a minute later, Luke offered it _and_ Reina over to Raphael, who was still sitting on the couch.

"Why don't you try feeding her? You'll see, it's not so hard," Luke told him.

The turtle exhaled softly, but didn't fight him on it. He shifted the baby a little awkwardly to find a good position for her head, and then held the bottle in place for her. Her father's blue eyes stared back at him for a couple of minutes, as she sucked contentedly on the bottle. As Raphael lightly tapped the bottom of it the way he'd seen the women do countless times, he couldn't fight the smile that was creeping up on his face.

Raphael had been afraid to even touch her the first time that Luke and Katherine had brought Reina down; she seemed so tiny and fragile. He'd all but refused to lay a hand on her that night, carefully avoiding any opportunity he could have had to hold the baby. There were enough people around that she never did without, but even in his large family, he hadn't been able to shy away from her forever. Karina had been quite emphatic that he perform his duties as an "uncle".

The women were all together on the surface tonight; enjoying their first complete Girl's Night since Katherine had the baby in March. It had taken a fair amount of coaxing on behalf of the other women to arrange even that. Katherine had fallen harder and faster for that little baby than she'd ever imagined she could, and had barely spent more than an hour away from her since she was born.

The bottle was close to being drained by the time Reina had fallen asleep, and Raphael found himself a little afraid to move and risk disturbing her. Luke could see his quandary, and gave the turtle a warm smile.

"It's okay Raph, she's a heavier sleeper than any of you are. Do you want me to take her? I'll go lay her down," Luke offered.

Raphael shook his head. "I think I got this. You set it up back in mine and Kari's room, right?"

"Yup. Go ahead then, and leave the door cracked a little, will you?"

The red-masked turtle rose without making a sound, and carried Reina down the hall to the room he'd moved into with Karina after the two had been married months ago. The play-pen was already waiting for him, and all he needed to do was lay her down. One finger traced her head before he withdrew his hand completely, barely grazing the blond hair that adorned it. Another smile snuck up on him as he backed away, and left the baby alone to get some sleep in the bedroom.

* * *

Michelangelo was leaning against the back of one of the empty desk-chairs, with a somewhat imploring gaze as he tried to remain patient with his purple-masked brother. Donatello had already assured him that he was nearly finished with the modifications he needed to make on Marcus' cell-phone. Donatello avoided his younger brother's look for the moment, and nodded at Marcus instead as he glanced up from his work.

"You're almost set here Marc. I'm hoping that the satellite feed will be reliable, and that it's not going to need further tweaking when you actually get over there," Donny said with a hint of disquiet.

"I guess you'd better come with me as my tech support, just in case," Marcus suggested with a smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood that resonated almost as strongly from Donatello as it had been from Luke. "We still have a couple more days before we fly out Donny, don't put all this pressure on yourself tonight."

"I want to make sure it _works,_" The turtle replied emphatically. "You know we're going to go crazy if we can't keep regular contact with you two."

"Something tells me that you won't completely relax either way, but I appreciate the effort you're putting into this, I really do," Marcus assured him. "In all honesty, I'm ready to go. These last couple of weeks have felt like I'm sitting at a dead stand-still."

"You'll be on vacation soon enough Marc," Michelangelo cracked from his corner of the room.

"I doubt _vacation_ is the real word for it Mike," Donatello said dryly.

Mike shifted from one foot to the other, and shot another pleading look in Donatello's direction. The purple-masked turtle wasn't supposed to be working at all tonight, but he'd taken a free pass to at least continue with the project until Leonardo got back. Donatello seemed to feel Michelangelo's blue eyes boring into him again, and reached over to shut off the additional lamp he'd been working underneath with an acquiescing nod.

"All right Mikey, I know I promised. Has anybody heard from Leo in the last eight hours or so?" He joked as he wheeled away from the desk.

"Raph talked to him half an hour ago, so he should be pretty close by now," Mike replied hopefully. "I've got a couple of games picked out, and if you leave the Lab right now, I'll give you first dibs on playing."

"How can I pass on that?" Donny grinned, bumping his brother's outstretched fist with his own.

The squeal of the door from the living area indicated that the blue-masked turtle had indeed arrived home. He was slightly damp from the rain that had been falling on the surface, but the smile on his face was irrepressible.

"You can't even leave your girl alone for _Girl's_ Night," Michelangelo teased him. "Do you see the irony?"

The oldest turtle made a face at him, but the grin reappeared as quickly as it had been displaced. "I didn't stay that long, and she was the one who asked me to come."

"We all know your girlfriend can't live without ya Leo," Raphael spoke up. "But it still feels like you took your sweet time. You knew we weren't gonna start without you," the red-masked turtle complained.

"I _am_ sorry to hold you up," he replied glibly. "But at least I didn't come back empty-handed."

Raphael and Michelangelo's heads were the first to shoot up in curiosity at that statement. Leonardo shrugged out of his coat first, and then set down the bag he'd been toting by the coffee table, where the two of them could get into it. Inside they found Calley's stash, what must have been a portion of about every kind of snack the girls were enjoying on the surface.

"Forget what I said Fearless, you're allowed to crash one of their little parties anytime you want," Raphael remarked, as Leonardo settled back into one of the arm chairs.

"I thought that'd change your tune." Leonardo laughed, and then glanced around the room as if just noticing that someone was missing. "What'd you guys do with Reina?"

"She's playing with the microwave," Michelangelo volunteered. "We figured the more experience she gets early on, the better off she'll be."

"She's asleep," Luke said a little reproachfully over the turtle. "Don't say anything like that where Kat can hear you, she's still kind of sensitive about the whole cooking issue."

"I wouldn't dare. Your wife can pretty much take me." Michelangelo chuckled in response.

"Do me a favor, and don't tempt her into trying." Luke smiled at the turtle. "I'm hoping that the 'slightly mellowed out, baby loving version' can take precedence for awhile, before she gets the craving to start kicking tail again."

"I thought that was what she's keeping Brandon around for." Raphael snorted.

"It _is_ pretty interesting to see the two of them go at it," Luke acknowledged.

In the midst of their conversing, Donatello had been sneaking a furtive glance at his oldest brother. Leonardo was still their fearless leader, the one they could always count on to be calm and centered, but there had been subtle changes in his personality since Calley had come into the picture. A smile seemed more ready on the blue-masked turtle's face than it had ever been before, and the sound of Coldplay was heard around the Den much more frequently. Leonardo's music of choice had usually been reserved for occasions when he was in a particularly good mood, so it actually made perfect sense to Donatello.

While Leonardo and Calley weren't exactly awkward in front of the others anymore, they were still more private about their relationship than the rest of them had been, though it wasn't exactly a deep dark secret. Donatello wasn't sure if it had more to do with their mix of personalities, Calley's father, or their youngest brother.

With that thought Donatello's gaze shifted to Michelangelo, who was already on the floor with a cookie in one hand, and setting up the first gaming system with the other. The orange-masked turtle met his look with one of his trademark smiles, which Donatello faintly returned. To Donny, it felt like Michelangelo had been putting a lot of extra effort into the act of making sure everyone knew that he was happy. While he believed it was true, the mere length that Mike had been going to didn't make it feel that convincing or natural anymore, and it left Donatello a little concerned.

All of them had made a joint effort not to pair up completely or leave their youngest brother out of things, but Donatello sensed that Michelangelo knew they were trying too hard, in the same sense that _he_ was trying too hard. It left the purple-masked turtle with an awkward feeling inside, and he didn't like it. It gave him the sense that Michelangelo was holding back a little from the rest of them. That in particular was hard for Donatello to take, but he also didn't know what to do about it. He certainly didn't want to keep pressing the issue, so he'd gotten to the point where he tried to ignore it, as much as Mike himself was trying to.

They were still a family, and the dynamic between the four of them hadn't faltered. But at the same time, Donatello recognized how much Jenna completed him, and true satisfaction that his older brothers had found with Karina and Calley as well. Michelangelo had to know that all three of them felt some kind of guilt deep down for the fact that he was alone on that front, and Donatello was sure it was the reason that he was working overtime to convince them that he was okay.

"What are you being so quiet for?" Michelangelo asked of the purple-masked turtle, who hadn't said a word out loud since Leonardo had gotten home.

"I'm just thinking," Donatello replied at once, as his younger brother shoved one of the game controllers into his hand.

"Didn't we ban that activity for tonight Donny? C'mon and rot your brain with the rest of us," Michelangelo urged in his own characteristic fashion.


	3. One Life

The orange masked turtle drew his pen up off the paper, and tapped the cap lightly against the notebook as he silently considered the scene that was in front of him. He was stretched out on the couch in the Lounge, where he'd been for the last hour or so, trying to work his way through this chapter. Occasionally he could handle other distractions when he was writing, while other scenes required his complete attention and focus, something he admittedly had difficulty maintaining for a long period of time. This one would be different though, he was determined to finish it from the beginning, to the middle, and the end. After another moment of contemplation, the pen returned to the page, where he continued writing.

_The figures lining the padded walls of the room reminded her of puppets on a string, the way their every action seemed to be controlled by one specific idiot of a man, who was still standing smugly in front of her. They could very well have been empty shells without a single mind of their own among them as far as she was concerned._

Must get pretty boring around here on a Friday night, _she had to wonder, a little off the true subject at hand. _Do they stand around together all day when they're not trying to intimidate a captive? They could probably make a killing if they turned over a new leaf, went into something like synchronized swimming.

_The irritating man before her cut her off before the thought could go any further, yanking her chin up to force violet eyes to look at him. She met him with a gaze that she only hoped could convey her boredom with his mind games. _

_He was mystified by the expression. "You have no idea what you're in for, do you girly?"_

_She resisted the urge to yawn directly in his face, but barely. Neither did she say anything out loud, allowing only a smile to meet his glare. The action seemed to fluster him further_. I wonder how long he could keep talking, if I just sat here and pretended to listen for hours? It could be fun to keep all of his lackeys standing around, waiting for something that's not ever going to happen.

_The man bent even closer into her face, jerking her ponytail with an amount of force that she considered to be overkill._

I must really be getting to him now.

_"Have you ever heard of a shower? Some people take them every day." She asked calmly_

_When one of his hands wrapped around her throat, she steeled her nerves not to react outwardly. _

_"Do you still not take me seriously?" The man demanded hotly._

_The color that was rising in his cheeks was the most peculiar shade to Aidan, and it made her want to laugh even as he was trying to strangle her. All she could manage was a small smirk. The slap that followed was certainly meant to send a message to her, but a surprisingly serene expression _remained_._

_Her attacker couldn't begin to fathom the fearlessness that she offered in return, as if utterly unmoved by the entire situation. "Have you nothing to say to me still? Your resolve may be strong, but I wager your fear will be on display for all to see before the night is over."_

_She tossed her head as if unconcerned.. "I learned not to fear insects as a child. If you want to impress me, you'll have to do better than that."_

Michelangelo was still pondering the last line in his head, when there was a knock at the door. "C'mon in, it's open."

The turtle grinned when he saw Brandon, and shoved his notebook closed. "Now I know you don't have all those finals graded already. What'd you do, stay up all night?"

"I probably could have, but no." Brandon shook his head. "I've got a dozen or so still left, but I couldn't take those walls anymore. I just needed to get out, you know what I mean?"

"You were going stir-crazy? Nah, I don't know what _that's_ like."

"Am I interrupting you?" the man asked suddenly. "I don't want to mess with your flow or anything. I could have called before showing up, but it's little late now, huh?"

"My focus is about maxed out." Michelangelo rose with a stretch off the couch. "Did you eat yet?"

"Are you kidding? That's half the reason I come here."

"Right, you only love me for my food. That's so typical."

"You guys keep my only _cooking_ sister down here too. It doesn't seem fair to hoard both you and Karina under one roof. Something has to give."

Michelangelo chuckled. "You're free to bail on Greg whenever you want, come move in down here. We'll have to start knocking down some walls though, and it'll give you a longer commute."

"The commute is almost over for a couple of months," Brandon remarked. "This has certainly been an interesting year."

"_Everything's_ interesting when you enter our circle," Michelangelo pointed out, as he gathered his notebook up under his arm.

"When are you going to let me read some of that?" the man asked more seriously.

"I ain't there yet Brandon, but you'll be the first one I hand it over to, okay?" the orange-masked turtle promised him. "It's kinda different than anything I've played with before, I'm still finding my way around."

"Well, I think it's great. Take your time, and it'll come to you, I'm sure of it."

"What makes you so sure it'll be any good?"

"You're one of the most creative guys I've ever known Mikey. That energy just has to be channeled into one spot. I can't wait to read what you've come up with."

Michelangelo shrugged his shoulders a little modestly. "Soon Brandon. Let's go confront hunger first - creative domination later."

* * *

Marcus wasn't scheduled to work at St. Joseph's that day, and it was a rare Saturday indeed that found him inside the hospital at all. He'd stopped by to fill out a couple of necessary forms, and to make some temporary good-byes to a few co-workers that he would be leaving behind for at least six weeks.

It was a shorter stint than most of the overseas volunteers completed, but it was also meant to act as a sort of trial period for Marcus. He lived under a condition that had the powers that be treading a little cautiously with him. Marcus wasn't concerned about it - he'd been faced with naysayers his entire life, so the experience was nothing new for him. He wasn't going to quit or turn back. If he needed to prove first-hand that he could handle the job, that's exactly what he would do.

The man was nearly finished filling out a three page document that had requested everything from him but a hair and tissue sample, when the phone rang on the break-room wall. He didn't think anything of it, until the woman who'd snapped it up called out to him.

"Sloan! You've got a visitor at Reception!"

Marcus hurriedly added his signature to the bottom of the page he'd been working on, and folded the sheet back underneath the others. "I'll see you Kendra - take care of yourself."

"Hey, you too. Don't get lost in the jungle!"

Marcus was a little confused that anyone would be coming_ here _to see him, and mentally tried to figure out who it could be as he made his way downstairs via the elevator. He didn't see anyone familiar upon first approaching the desk, and scratched his head a little as he glanced around the surrounding area.

All at once an individual rose from one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, whose very presence made every muscle stiffen inside Marcus' body. The doctor crossed his arms with an inward sigh, and faced the older man down coolly.

"What are you doing here? What do you want from me?" Marcus' tone wasn't completely condemning, but it wasn't welcoming either.

"You're going to the _Congo_ Marcus? Are you out of your flipping mind? I thought you had grown out of this phase. Exactly when were you going to clue your Mother and I in on this little plan of yours?"

His words spilled out so quickly, Marcus had to focus to address each part. He breathed in and out slowly for a couple of seconds to try and maintain a calmer tone. "First of all, you and Mom haven't belonged in the same sentence together for about thirty years, so don't try pulling the 'united front' on me. Secondly, it wasn't a phase, and it's not something that I could _grow_ out of. I certainly don't need your permission to leave the country, but I would have told you months ago, if I didn't already expect this reaction from you."

"I'm still your Father!"

"When it's convenient," Marcus replied sharply. "If you've come to try and talk me out of it, you're wasting your time. I'm leaving in a couple of days, and yes, I was planning on at least telling both of you before I did."

"What's this really about Marcus? You still trying to prove that you can handle anything? You're willing to put your own life in danger, just to make some stupid point that your disease doesn't hinder you from doing whatever you want?"

A growl was pulsing under Marc's breath, but he wisely contained it, and motioned with his head for his father to follow him outside.

"As hard as this might be for you to understand, it isn't about _me_ Dad, and it's not about proving how tough I am. I'm going over there to help people, in a part of the world that's being ravaged by a war that you and I can't possibly fathom living in. That's all this is about. I don't need to make any silly point about functioning with asthma, and I don't need to earn your approval. I'm years past that kind of thinking. There's a tremendous need, and I'm going to help fill it, end of story."

"You think you're gonna be someone's hero, save the world?" the older man scoffed. "That's a darn waste of your training _and_ your time. You worked this hard to become one of the top orthopedic authorities in the county, and you're gonna throw all that away so you can give out a few vaccines in the wilderness?

You're better than that Marcus, but even so, you're still only one man. Do you think that leaving everything behind is the answer to some kind of thrill you're missing in your life? You can't change the world son, no matter how much you'd like to. That's just the hard facts."

Marcus exhaled sharply, before looking his father directly in the eyes again. "You're right, I can't change the world. I'm nowhere near big enough to leave that kind of an impact. But somewhere in the African jungle is a little five year old girl, who just lost both of her legs for want of a simple surgery that I could have performed. There's a teenage boy living in daily agony, because of a broken bone that wasn't set properly. There are others, countless cases I've read across the wire, of people who need help and _deserve_ to get it.

They haven't done anything wrong, they're innocent civilians, trying to exist in the midst of a war that's been tearing them to pieces. I can't save the world, but I _can_ change it for one person, and maybe several more. That's why I'm going, and nothing you say is going to make the slightest difference."


	4. Space

The "family" dinners had grown to a point where any meal with the extended circle turned into a major event. Having everyone he loved around him was a comforting feeling for Michelangelo; he didn't even mind the extra work that it made for him and Karina in the kitchen. In his opinion, cooking was the fun part anyway. Someone else always had to do the clean-up.

He and Karina had put even more effort into tonight's meal, because it was more than just a casual get-together. Marcus and April would be getting on a plane in less than two days, and this would be the last opportunity for everyone to be in one spot for several weeks at least. As much as the orange-masked turtle enjoyed eating, his favorite part of evenings like this one came when everyone had finished and was satisfied, just lingering in one another's company.

Greg was relaxing in one of the recliners across from Marcus and April, and chose a quiet moment to flash the two of them an inviting smile. "Alright, now this is your last offer to travel overseas in the private comfort of the Gulfstream. I still have time to rearrange a couple of things."

Marcus gave him a tolerant smile. "And it's a great offer Greg, but we'll be fine flying commercial. The last thing I want to do is set some kind of 'elitist' impression the moment we show up on the scene. We'd be more than happy to take you up on a trip when we get back."

"You mean in place of our non-existent honeymoon?" April quipped from his side. "I'm still trying to convince a couple of people at the station that _this_ trip isn't serving as just that."

"Have they given you any idea of where you'll be serving yet?" Jenna asked from behind Marcus, causing the man to crane his neck to address her.

"No, I won't know anything about that until we get there."

April cast him a somewhat concerned glance at the flatness of his tone. While he _was_ nervous, his excitement had been increasing as they got closer to leaving as well. Tonight, however, he'd been quieter than normal through dinner, and Marcus figured April had to be picking up on it. Answering Jenna just now was also the first time he'd allowed himself to sound a little down about the subject matter. April seemed to be biting her lip to keep from asking him what was wrong in front of the others. They were suddenly interrupted before she would have even had the chance.

Marcus yanked his phone off his belt as it vibrated, glancing cautiously at the facing before he went near answering it. He didn't recognize the exact number, but the suffix was plenty familiar. "Excuse me guys, I should probably take this."

The man rose, and swiftly made his way inside the Lab before picking it up. "This is Marcus."

"Hello Dr. Sloan, this is Lucy Nicholson. I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but a situation has come up that requires your immediate input."

"Is something wrong?" Marcus was instantly on guard.

"I'm afraid Daniel Rogers was in an accident this afternoon, I received word about him a couple of hours ago. He's in the hospital."

"Oh, wow. Is he going to be okay?"

"A lot of the damage was superficial, but he sustained a badly broken leg as well. Sufficed to say, he's in no condition to travel, and won't be for some time."

"Well then...what happens now?" Marcus ventured. "Are we being pushed back, delayed?"

"Our agreement included a translator, and the Embassy doesn't want to send you without one. It's possible that they could find someone to work with you inside the country itself, but there is another alternative, other individuals who could accompany you."

"So what are you telling me right now? Are we going to be shuffled? Do you have someone else in mind that could go with us?"

"I personally connected with another contact inside the program about an hour ago, and she stands ready to leave with you, as per your original itinerary."

"That quickly? Gosh, that's impressive."

"She hasn't been with the program as long as our veterans have, but as far as language skills go, she's one of the most experienced translators on our team concerning the languages you'd have to deal with. She also has long-standing ties with the Congo, as well as an understanding of the country that could serve as a tremendous asset to you Dr. Sloan. In a perfect world, she would have been my first choice to match with you at the beginning of this whole process, but we do still have to run under certain seniority regulations. Upon your agreement, she would serve as your immediate replacement."

Marcus nodded his head slowly, as if the woman on the other side of the phone would be able to see it. "Okay. If you say she's a good fit, I'm not going to rock the boat here. We're on our original schedule then?"

"We are sir. Thank you for your patience with us throughout this process."

"I appreciate everything you've done. Thank you for moving so quickly tonight to find us another translator."

As Marcus hung up the phone, the door to the Lab inched partially open so that April's head could peek inside.

"Hey," she said softly. "Is everything all right?"

"We're going to be getting a new translator; Dan was in a bad accident today. He'll be okay, but he's in no shape to traverse the rainforest. Lucy said that we're still on-point to leave on time, she just needed me to allow the switch to take place."

"What about you Marc? What's going on?"

He looked at her a little blankly, and April fixed him with a knowing gaze. "You've been different today. Is this nerves getting to you, or is something really the matter?"

Marcus flopped into one of the desk chairs with a small huff, and averted his own gaze to the floor. "Nothing, it's stupid," he muttered. "My father stopped by the hospital to see me today."

She seemed to understood completely now. "Ah...I see. It didn't go well I take it."

"I _was_ spared from having to break the news to him myself. He found out through some other means, I'm guessing the Embassy, probably checking up on my medical history. I never told them how to contact my parents, but there are plenty of ways they could have figured out how," the man stated bitterly.

"I wish you could have told them months ago Marc."

"So they could make my life a living nightmare until the day I left? There's a reason I held off from telling them April, and my father illustrated it perfectly today."

"Far be it from me to decipher the enigma that is your father Marcus. But is it possible that he's genuinely worried about you?" she asked carefully.

"Robert Sloan has spent 95% of his life only worrying about the reflection that stares back at him in the mirror. This isn't about his fear; it's an issue of control. I'm bucking his orders, and it ticks him off. Yet as much as I remind myself that I don't need his approval to live my life...this stuff still affects me. I hate it, but I can't get away from it completely." Marcus paused with a heavy sigh. "He's the one making this impossible April. You know that I've tried to settle things with him from the past, but every single conversation with him ends the same way. He's not _just_ a leopard who can't change his spots, he's quite content with them the way they are."

"I'm on your side Marc; I want you to know that. None of this pushing is because I see some kind of fault in _you_. I just know that you're a bigger man than he is."

* * *

It was late, and most of the activity had already died down inside the Den, until it was reduced to just Michelangelo, Donatello, and Jenna watching TV in its' wake. The older turtles had gone their respective ways already; Leonardo to his room upstairs, and Raphael to bed with his wife. The raven-haired girl was curled up with Donatello on the couch, her head partially pillowed against his shoulder as they watched the re-run of CSI: New York.

Michelangelo felt completely relaxed and at ease. It had been a wonderful evening, which had ended with him getting to lull Reina off to sleep. A wistful feeling came over him, as he pictured how peaceful she'd looked, and recalled the sensation of her tiny hand trying to grasp onto one of his fingers.

He and his brothers didn't live a typical life; they never had, and they never would. The long standing friends and new additions had added so much to their existence, filling in places that they hadn't even realized were lacking. In all the time he had spent getting to know various humans, jealousy had never been an issue for the orange-masked turtle. It wasn't in his nature to envy what someone else had, and he'd always made a strong point of trying to focus on the positive side of everything. But holding that baby for the first time months ago had stirred a twinge of regret in the turtle. It was the _only _time in conscious remembrance that he could recall wishing for something that someone else had.

Michelangelo stole a quick glance at his brother and "sister" on the couch, where Jenna was now practically dozing off. Curiosity would sometimes rise up in the orange-masked turtle's mind, and he would try to imagine what it would be like to have something like his brothers or even Luke and Marcus had. It was a thought that he never allowed very much time to develop, though he sometimes asked himself if he would be capable of giving in to someone else's love the way the others had, at the expense of the world the women lived in.

For one who was already fiercely protective of their human contacts, and so sensitive to the danger the men and women had often been in because of knowing them, it was a hard question to answer. Only recently his brothers could have lost them, Jenna, Karina, and Calley, all in one fell swoop. All because of a vicious Japanese gang known as the Akiudo, that wanted to get their hands on the turtles for themselves. While he found absolutely no fault in his brothers for the relationships, he wasn't certain how he'd personally handle someone else's life being in his hands that way.

Michelangelo smiled in spite of himself as Jenna's head jerked up with a start, when she caught herself from falling completely asleep. That was his cue. The orange-masked turtle rose with overly dramatic stretch from the recliner. "All right you crazy kids, that's it for me. I'm gonna call it a night."

"You're going already? It isn't even over yet." Donny sat up a bit further on the couch, as Jenna straightened as well.

"Yeah, I'm tired, it's late." Michelangelo said over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs, and caught Donatello's eye once more to deliver a secretive wink. _One of these days, you're gonna have to stop worrying about me bro. In the meantime, if you won't make space for the two of you, then I'll make it for you._


	5. Replacement

Rebecca Tompkins was the kind of girl that most people wouldn't give a second glance, if indeed they noticed her to begin with. Standing at barely 5'2" didn't do her any favors, nor the way she consciously avoided eye contact with people in a crowd. She didn't enjoy excusing herself through the droves of people; it was an awkward self-conscious feeling that she wasn't used to dealing with.

It was an ironic thought to the young woman that she felt more comfortable in a foreign country, opposite people that were so ethnically different from her, than she was inside the country she'd been born in. Rebecca had been thrilled to receive the nearly last minute phone call, and invitation to return to the Congo. She'd agreed without the least bit of hesitation, not even needing a few seconds to think about it before the answer came bubbling up.

As she continued walking toward her gate, she brushed an unruly curl out of her face impatiently, and wished that she had time to stop off in the bathroom and fix it. Her light brown hair was pulled back the way it almost always ended up, because she tired of the natural waves that would frizz if someone even looked at them wrong. Rebecca was already running late because of how long it had taken to get through the security check-point. As an experienced flyer, she was sure she'd allowed herself enough time, but recent attempts of violence a little too close to home had compounded airport security even further.

The young woman caught sight of her own slightly stocky frame in the mirrored wall as she turned the corner toward her destination, and made the automatic adjustment to her shirt one last time. She cast a forlorn glance at a bathroom as she practically flew by it, but then threw her shoulders back resolutely. _You're fine Becky, just let it go, and keep moving._

It was a good feeling to be going back again, and she was looking forward to working with this doctor, which she expected would be much more satisfying than any of the translating projects she'd been involved with so far. The only distraction that she'd still be considering in the meantime was the object of her constant quest since being forced to leave Africa three years earlier - achieving the Congo's version of permanent residency.

* * *

Marcus glanced at his watch absent-mindedly, for what was probably the thirtieth time that day. The boarding of the plane had already started, but he and April had held off, hoping to catch his new partner before they got on. Both of them were keeping an eye out for the woman through the crowds of people, regardless of the fact that they didn't even know what she was supposed to look like.

Marcus had just cast another glance over his shoulder at the agent who was checking tickets and directing traffic, when someone stopped directly in front of him.

"Dr. Sloan?"

Marcus laid eyes on a young woman, who hardly looked old enough to be in college, let alone to be a world traveler fluent in several languages. Blue-green eyes were staring back at him, at first flickering with uncertainty.

"You _are _Dr. Sloan, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I'm sorry," he stumbled somewhat clumsily. "Miss Tompkins?"

"That's right." Rebecca glanced past the two of them, and then motioned toward the connecting tunnel. "I'm sorry I'm late, I got a little held-up. I think we should continue this on board, we'll be the last ones at this rate."

April fell into step beside her, flashing a welcome smile. "You'll have to forgive us, we didn't really know who to expect. I'm April, Marcus' tag-along wife."

"You're the one who's going to be doing that piece for Channel 6," Rebecca replied knowingly. "I stopped by the headquarters yesterday to get a little background on the both of you. I wanted to at least be able to recognize who you were by sight."

Marcus finally found his voice again, around the time that they were locating their row of seats in the 757. "Please forgive me," he requested again. "When Lucy told me about your translating skills, I was expecting someone older. Not that you're too young, I was just surprised."

Curiously enough, his fumbling seemed to put Rebecca more at ease, and she sounded like she was stifling a chuckle. "I get that from time to time. I _am_ the youngest one in the program, but age isn't the only thing that equates to experience."

"She said that you have long-standing connections to the Congo," Marcus ventured. "Do you mind me asking about it this soon? I can you give some time to settle in, I'm not trying to pester you."

"I think it's best to be up front, we've got a lot of ground to cover," she answered. "I'm a natural born American citizen, but I've spent almost my entire life in South Africa. My parents were missionaries to a couple of different countries, I was two years old when they transplanted my older sister and I there with them. Except for brief furloughs, I hadn't spent any real time in the US until about three years ago."

"Which explains your language skills." April shifted in her own seat, craning her neck to try and see Rebecca better. "What do you speak?"

"There are literally hundreds of tribal dialects, but there are a number of official languages too, and that's where I'm proficient. There's Kikongo and Lingala, which are used primarily by the rainforest tribes. There's also Swahili, which is kind of a unifying tongue for them, as a number of the African countries speak it or use it as their national language. There's a lot of French spoken too, believe it or not."

"That's the French Belgian influence still in play, isn't it?" Marcus asked.

She nodded. "It's still considered to be a centralized neutral language among the many different ethnic groups."

"Were you in the Congo back in the nineties, when all the genocide was going on in Rwanda?" April spoke up from the window seat.

The nod Rebecca gave her seemed particularly heavy. "Yes. We heard so many terrible things over the radio broadcasts, the obscene threats and acts of violence that were taking place. We weren't touched by in it in our remote location, until after that conflict was officially over. That was when people started pouring into the Congo by the thousands, both hunted victims, and rebel forces. The eventual power struggle that was kicked up between the Congolese Army and rebel groups still continues to this day, though the 'official' war is over."

"And it's the innocents who suffer," Marcus added bitterly before he could stop himself.

"You're right," Rebecca agreed. "Their suffering is more intense than most people can even understand, and it's not just about the fighting. Despite the fact that the country is rich in natural resources and minerals, their people are among the poorest on the planet. Work is difficult to find, and the jobs that are available are often dangerous and unfair, treating workers more like slaves than anything else. What property they do maintain is under constant threat. The soldiers from the army and the rebel forces take whatever they want from them. They control everything, from the mines of gold, diamonds and coltan, right down to the food supply, as well as driving them off from their villages on a whim."

"I've read about coltan - that's the mineral we need for like our cell-phones, isn't it?" Marcus asked.

"Among other electronic devices," Rebecca answered distractedly, and continued with her rant. "Even a woman's body isn't considered her own. Rape is a constant occurrence from _both _sides of the war. It's being used as another weapon against them, and there are absolutely no regulations in place to thwart it!"

The young woman ducked her head, as if suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry. I get worked up over this very easily."

"Miss Tompkins-" Marcus started, only for her to cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Please call me Rebecca, or even Becky if you like."

"I want to assure you that I'm all ears for anything that you can tell me," Marcus said slowly. "I know this isn't just a field trip. We've been informed of the conditions, but it means more to hear it from someone like you, who's seen it with your own eyes."

"I'll try to prepare you as well as I can, but a bit more slowly perhaps," she answered.

"There's going to be a crew from my station coming over in a couple of weeks," April offered. "I had a general outline of the piece we were going to be working on, but even listening to you right now makes me feel a slight shift coming. I don't know what kind of time or opportunities you might be afforded once we're actually over there, but I would love to be able to use you as a source if you were willing."

The young woman's eyes conveyed her uncertainty once more. "I can give you input on the country, but there are others who've lived there much longer, and seen more than I have."

"I was thinking of a different sort of role, but we don't need to get into that right now," April said at once, seeming to sense from Rebecca's nervous expression that she'd spoken up too soon in her own excitement over the young woman's passion.

"So, do you live around New York City, or did you have to travel very far to get here?" Marcus changed the subject.

"I was born in Kansas. I spent some time there again after returning to the US, before relocating to the city to join the program."

"What about your parents, your sister? Did you come out to New York all on your own?" he continued.

"All the family I have is back in Kansas. How long _you_ been New Yorkers?" She seemed eager to shift the topic of conversation back to the two of them.

"I grew up in Maine, moved to the city after Med School. Been there ever since, mostly working out of one of the local hospitals," Marcus replied.

Rebecca unbuckled her seat-belt the moment the sign turned off, so she could turn to face them better. "Right, you're in orthopedics. I've heard some impressive things about you Dr. Sloan."

The man shrugged with a smile. "Don't believe everything you hear, and you can call me Marcus. I understand that we're supposed to be about attached at the hip, so there's no sense in resting on formality."

Marc was trying hard not to be obvious about it, but he was very intrigued by their new friend. There were many questions running through his mind, but he dispelled the thought of flooding Rebecca with them right now. The young woman was friendly enough in her own right, and clearly very passionate about where they were heading. But at the same time, she seemed to be uncomfortable with any subject that centered too heavily on herself, noticeably avoiding giving any real details about her current life outside of the program. He had a feeling that he was sitting close to a vast trove of stories and information; whether or not it could all be accessed was yet to be seen.

Marcus also couldn't help but notice the way the young woman interacted with other individuals around them. There was the way her eyes didn't quite meet the flight attendant's when she came around to offer drink re-fills, as well as how she'd focused straight ahead without even so much as glancing to the aisles on either side of her when she'd gotten up earlier.

Marcus was trying not to make any snap judgments, but his naturally inquisitive nature already found the woman to be a little closed off. Untrusting? No, that wasn't it. There wasn't any kind of suspicion or bitterness in her eyes that suggested an anti-social drive. The most pronounced emotion that he was beginning to recognize was a sense of disquiet, an uneasiness resting over her countenance.

The look in the young woman's eyes right now was a little dazed as she stared off into space, as if not actually focusing in the direction she was gazing. Rebecca unconsciously fingered the beaded bracelet on her right wrist, until she seemed to notice what she was doing again. Then she settled her left hand back down on the arm rest, gripping the end of if tightly under her fingers for a few seconds.

Rebecca turned her head in the direction of Marc's gaze, before the man had a chance to look away. He tried to project warmth toward her, and received a shy smile from her in response.

_She seems like a very interesting girl. I hope I have the chance to actually get to know her._


	6. Loyalty

It had been a quiet night; a fact that never boded too well with Donatello. The city was entirely too large for _nothing_ to be going on. The only thing that the supposed calm indicated to the turtle was that he and Michelangelo weren't searching in the right area. He caught himself wishing for the fifth time that they hadn't split up from the other guys.

Leonardo was uncanny the way he sometimes seemed to see things before they happened, and Donatello swore that Raphael was capable of smelling blood from at least three blocks away. But Michelangelo had appeared to be worked up in his usual abundant energy, and not interested in working inside of Leonardo's brand of patience that night. He'd lured Donatello away from the other two brothers with one his Cheshire smiles, only to _separate_ from the purple-banded turtle once they were on their own trip off the beaten path.

Donatello had taken to the roofs to satisfy his orange-masked brother's strange request, and left him trolling down the street below. They were still traveling in the same direction, though they hadn't been in contact for the last few minutes. Michelangelo had promised not to run too far ahead, so Donny was confident that he had to be nearby, even though he hadn't been able to see him lately.

The purple-masked turtle was in mid-air between buildings when his phone finally went off, and reached for it the second his feet touched the flat surface. "What's up Mikey? Or should I be asking what's _down_?"

"I think I'm onto a few guys here Donny. They're not like turning over cars or anything, but I'm still gettin' this bad vibe from them, you know what I mean?"

"Is there going to be an issue? Should I be heading that way?"

"Nah, be cool for a couple more minutes bro. They're heading East, so I say stay with the buildings as long as they're handy. I'll keep track of 'em on the ground, let you know their progress."

"Mikey, is there some particular reason that I'm up here, and you're down there?"

"Well, yeah...sorta. Just go with me on this Donny, I'm trying something. You know how easily I get distracted, and I'm trying to work out some of _own _spidey senses, like the stuff Leo eats and breathes."

"Is that why you wanted to separate from them tonight?"

"How am I supposed to see what I can figure out on my own, if I'm always relying on Fearless? I knew you'd trust me enough to let me do it alone, even if I didn't tell you why. Wait now, hold up for a second. These guys aren't traveling as fast as we would, I'm pretty sure you're ahead of _us_. Why don't you sit back for a couple of minutes, see if they don't come right into your line of sight from up there?"

Donatello nodded to himself, and stayed on the phone with his younger brother as he pulled up short near the edge of the building he was standing on. He leaned both elbows on the ledge contemplatively, resting his chin in one hand while he waited for some sign of the individuals Michelangelo was referring to.

True to Michelangelo's tip, several shadows soon emerged near the same abandoned intersect of buildings, and the purple-banded turtle yanked his digital binoculars into place. He waited for the figures to get into the right position near a street light before snapping an image, and recognized the colors with a soft snort of disgust.

"They're Crypts Mike, and one of 'em is playing with a serious blade. I think you've got them figured pretty well. _Now_ do you want me to come down?"

"Only if you run out of roof, or they change directions. I really am cool down here," Michelangelo insisted.

_Just make sure you _keep _your cool_, Donatello added inwardly, but then instantly chided himself. _They're his find, let him do it_.

Donny started trotting again, careful to be even quieter than he'd been to begin with. He melded his shadow in perfectly with the curves of the rooftop, and stayed as low as he could to minimize the opportunities of being spotted even more.

"You are still up there right?" his orange-masked brother teased.

"You're messing with my sense of drama," Donatello answered sardonically. "Can we stick to business now?"

Michelangelo chuckled under his breath. "Are you operating under your Secret Agent name tonight Donny?"

"That's the last time I confess one of my fantasies to you."

"You've got all the goods Donny, I'm just saying you might need a different name to strike true fear in the face of-"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be distracting you."

"That was _before_ I found a mark, now it's almost play time," his orange masked brother returned, but the soft gasp that followed made Donatello stop in his tracks again. "Whoa. There's something going on off to my right Donny, I can't see it, but I definitely hear it. Think you can hone in on it?"

"Gimme a minute Mikey." The purple-banded turtle stretched to replace his binoculars, and adjusted the zoom to cover the distance.

It took a small amount of searching to capture what Michelangelo had heard, but his heart dropped in his chest when he did.

"Oh shell. Mike, these guys look like reinforcements. They're joining something already in progress!"

"They're gonna _need_ reinforcements when we're through with them."

* * *

The Crypt yanked the young man's head up fiercely while two others barely supported his limp frame, and stared straight into the terrified eyes of their captive. "Any change of heart yet?"

The kid was breathing harder through the weight of the pain, but his resolved hadn't been shaken. "_No_."

The speaker shook his head. "It's too bad. In another setting, your loyalty could have been a useful tool. Here, it's just the means for getting you killed."

As the words were leaving his mouth, a silent shadow fell across the group from the scant overhead street light, and the one doing the threatening was immediately diverted.

"I _asked _you to wait for me." The newcomer glowered behind him, flanked by four more young men.

"You took too long," the first replied. "What'd you expect, that we'd play hopscotch and tiddly-winks until you decided to show up? Besides he ain't finished yet, and he's not talking either."

"To _you_ maybe." The second smirked, and motioned for everyone to get out of his way.

If it was possible, their victim seemed more afraid of this new gang-banger than any of the others. There was a sinister tone in his voice as he casually showed him his knife-blade.

"D'you know part of the reason they call us 'Crypts' son? It's 'cause we're always thirsty for blood, never satisfied. It would take nothing for me to gut a random person on the street, let alone some little boy who's being uncooperative."

As if to prove that he meant what he said, he drove the knife into the young man's rib-cage, twisting it sharply as he yanked it free. The kid's gasp of pain coupled with the others' laughter only encouraged him to continue. As the blade buried in his rib-cage a second time, Michelangelo spoke up from the darkness.

"Do you believe it? Once again, the almighty thugs fearlessly triumph against the incredible odds of eleven against one. Are you as impressed as I am Donny?"

The purple-masked turtle couldn't help grinning at Michelangelo from the shadows, before getting deadly serious again. "No, I can't say that I am. You guys afraid to even the odds a little bit more?"

"Why don't you show yourselves, and we'll find out who's _afraid_." The attacker pulled his blade free cockily, prepared to use it again.

Their victim was left to fall into the tall grass that rose up around a chain-link fence, while they focused all of their attention on the two shadowy forms lingering just beyond the light. As they started to dash toward them, the two turtles sprang forward to meet them.

Michelangelo twisted around someone's attempt to blind-side him with a length of chain, and then turned to catch the retreating metal links in a solid grip. He jerked the chain right out of the surprised teenager's hands with a chuckle, and whipped it back over him so that it pinned both of the human's arms to his sides.

The orange-masked turtle sensed the wind of a pipe being swung at him from behind, and side-stepped the blow completely. The young man pursued him right up to the point that Michelangelo lunged out of his way a second time, and the kid's intended strike floored one of the other boys that had been crouched _nearby_ the turtle instead.

"Nice hit dude - but whose team are y' playing for again?"

Donatello's first move required bowling through three individuals that were trying to form their version of a human barricade. He didn't waste any time on taunting them - that was more Mikey's territory. He was determined not to be surrounded, so his bo struck with lightning accuracy to simply take them out as effectively as possible.

His phone vibrated at that inopportune moment, but he managed to ignore it without being distracted. The purple-banded turtle had already laid four of them out without breaking a real sweat, before wheeling around to face the fifth character, who was brandishing his long-bladed knife. The weapon was still coated in their victim's blood, successfully ticking Donatello off more.

His round-house kick connected so hard with the thug's wrist, that he knew he'd come close to shattering it. Donatello had to reign himself in to refrain from continuing his attack with the same amount of force. He directed the follow-up kick to the young man's mid-section, and still ended up knocking him backward several feet to the pavement.

Donatello's first instinct after that was to check on Michelangelo, who still had three men on his shell since he'd been toying with them more than his older brother had. The orange-masked turtle threw a glance his direction, after bringing a nunchuck to bear against a teenager's chest.

"Donny, go! I got this!"

The purple-masked turtle only gave him one more appraising glance, before dashing toward the fence where he knew their victim had ended up. He approached carefully through the weeds, but caution went out the window when he saw how much the kid was bleeding. Donatello swiftly unwound one of his arm-bands, as he ducked closer to the ground. He thought the unmoving figure might already be unconscious, until the young man jerked slightly as Donatello lightly bound the fabric over the human's eyes. He was going to be working in close proximity with him, and didn't want to risk the kid discovering what he was if he didn't have to.

"Easy, don't struggle," Donatello urged him. "You could hurt yourself worse. I'm trying to help you here."

The teenager's body shook like a leaf in the wind. "D-don't play with me man." His teeth chattered as if he were freezing. "You're not getting my brother outta me."

"I'm not going to hurt you," Donatello assured him. "I won't let anyone else touch you either."

"Where did you come from?"

"It's not important." Donatello yanked off his back-pack, and sifted through it to find gauze to start a pressure wrap. "I'm afraid this part _will _hurt, but I have to get a handle on this bleeding."

"Am I gonna die?"

"No." Donatello forced strong certainty into his voice, so the kid would believe him. "I'm going to address this for you, and we'll call an ambulance. Just hang in there with me, okay?"

"You're not going to leave me alone with them, are you?"

"Not until the cops get really close, I promise."

"But the others will kill me - I'll never get out of this if you go."

"No one's going to kill you." The quiet confidence that he felt the boy needed to hear remained intact.

"Why don't you want me to see you?"

"We prefer to remain anonymous - it's safer in our line of work. Now hold on a second," Donny replied, and glanced down when his phone vibrated again. He picked it up without hesitation this time. "Hey Leo, we're kinda in the middle of something. Can I call you back?...No, we're way east of there, had to take a detour...We've got to stay in the area for awhile, wait for the cops to show up on this...No, you go ahead, and we'll catch up with you later. We're fine; it's all under control...Okay. We'll see you in awhile."

Michelangelo came up behind him as he was hanging up the phone. "How are we doing over here?"

"We need cops, and we need an ambulance. Way to go with your gut Mikey, following them was probably the best thing we did all night."

Michelangelo grinned. "It's just a page out of Leo's handbook. Track down the perps before they become perpetrators."

"Who's there?" the young man asked shakily.

"It's only my brother," Donatello answered soothingly. "Don't worry. I said I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"My brother..." the human repeated, sounding as if he were extremely tired. "He's safe too, hiding. I wouldn't tell them where."

On impulse, Michelangelo reached down to squeeze the boy's shoulder. "Sounds like you know a thing or two about loyalty."

The faintest of smiles appeared on the kid's face. "He got out of it. That's all that matters."

"Nah dude, you matter too," the orange-masked turtle informed him. "You're a lot tougher than those thugs gave you credit for."

He coughed weakly before responding. "Don't feel tough."

"Why don't you save your breath now?" Donatello gently persuaded. "Try to stay awake for me though, okay?"

The two turtles remained where they were on the ground beside him, not even needing to budge when the others started coming around. Michelangelo had taken care of zip-tying their hands and feet, so there was no danger of anyone going anywhere. It was a simple matter of waiting for the authorities to arrive.

They didn't move when they first heard the sirens, waiting until they had a visual sight of them coming.

"Can I trust you to keep your eyes shut?" Donatello asked the young man evenly.

He seemed too tired to nod his head, so he answered with a single syllable instead. "Yeah."

Donatello withdrew the silk material from his eyes, shaking his head a little sadly when he saw how it was matted with the human's blood. "You're gonna be okay now."

"Thanks to you guys. I'd be dead if..."

The teenager trailed off slowly as Michelangelo gave him a parting pat of the arm.

"Take care of yourself dude. We've gotta go."

Before he could say anything else, both turtles disappeared over the other side of the fence, and into the darkness of the night.


	7. Uneasy

The next morning found Leonardo dedicating more time than usual trying to focus in a calm place, even after running through some regular morning katas with Raphael. Over the last few days he'd been drawn into spending additional time alone this way, with no clear signal as to why.

_Breathe in...and exhale_.

Awareness washed over him, ebbing and flowing like an ocean tide, as he searched for the source of his unrest. He'd spent a lot of energy on his brothers already, trying to gauge their moods and what could be going on underneath the surface of everything. Raphael had been disturbed for months after his own ordeal, and they'd be coming up on the second anniversary of it before they knew it. Yet as much as his red-masked brother had struggled through the lasting effects, the turtle seemed to be now living under a greater sense of peace than he'd ever known before.

His younger brothers had always been the harder ones for him to read, Donatello in particular. Leonardo still had to ask them outright what was going on with them sometimes, because they were so much better at disguising their own issues in different ways from Raphael. None of the one on one time he'd spent with Donatello or Michelangelo had revealed anything telling though, and it had Leonardo wondering if this unrest was all in his own mind.

The turtle tried to still the rising questions, but as he settled back into silence, another familiar sensation hit him. This one was like a warm breeze, carrying the scent of jasmine. His dark eyes came open almost at once, and the thought of striving any further took a momentary hiatus. Leonardo rose to his feet and left the practice room, traveling down the hall to confirm if-

"Good morning." The young blond-haired woman had been sprawled across one of the chairs in the living area, but sat up quickly when she saw the turtle coming.

"Hey, you're early!" He grinned. "I thought you weren't coming until this afternoon."

"Instructor was sick, so my morning class got called." Calley rose with a languid stretch. "I figured you probably wouldn't mind."

"Mind? No, can't say that I do." Leonardo caught his youngest brother's wink from the couch, and felt himself coloring slightly despite how many months it had been.

"I was going to get on your tea, but I didn't know how long you'd be. I didn't want to interrupt you." Calley gave the blue-masked turtle a lingering glance, indicating there was more on her mind than she was openly saying.

"You're not an interruption, and tea can wait," Leonardo suggested, before casting another glance at Michelangelo. "We'll be back in a little bit bro."

"Hey, don't rush on my account or anything," the orange-masked turtle shot back impishly, and received a slightly dark look from Leonardo in return.

Behind the closed door of the practice room, Calley entwined both arms around Leonardo's neck, kissing him deeply. His palm cupped her chin lightly as he kissed her back, reveling in the goose bumps she still had the power to give him. Her fingers remained laced around his neck, as he met her brown-eyed gaze.

"So is this all you wanted to talk about?" Leonardo asked teasingly.

She tossed her short hair a little coyly, forcing back the bangs that had a way on often ending up in her eyes. "It's part of it. But I wanted to ask about _you_ too."

"What about me?"

"You've been a little different Leo, like more subdued. It's subtle, but it's still there. What are you troubled about?"

Leonardo considered his response for a few seconds. "I don't know - I've been trying to figure it out. You know that feeling you get when you're preparing to dive off something, standing right up at the edge? You take this deep breath to prepare yourself, as it's the last one you'll get before you have to hold it. That's what this feels like. It's as if I'm holding my breath for something...and I don't know what."

"Did this just start when Marc and April left?"

He nodded his head. "For that reason alone, I feel like I could be blowing something out of proportion, or just being paranoid. This could be nerves, couldn't it?"

"I've never felt like you were the paranoid type Leonardo."

"That doesn't mean I couldn't be."

"Let me see if I understand you correctly." Calley was unable to contain a small smile. "Are you paranoid that you're being paranoid?"

The blue-masked turtle laughed, and shook his head. "If I didn't think I was crazy before, I do _now_."

"You're not crazy," she stated with certainty. "Take it from someone who's actually been there."

* * *

Raphael was nearly elbow deep in his least favorite chore, washing up the remainder of the morning dishes from breakfast. He could have been done with it a lot sooner, but he had a habit of ignoring it until he was getting on at least one person's last nerve. In this case it was Karina who had lit a fire under the turtle's shell, as she needed the area cleared up so she could get the baking done for the bi-weekly care package that her sister Katherine had come to "rely" upon.

She'd been giving the red-masked turtle gentle ribbing about the dreaded task he was engaged in, and coming over intermittently to check his progress. Karina vigorously stirred the brownie mix she'd started a couple more times, before setting it down to come meet him again. "Are you going to finish these sometime before lunch?"

"I'd be done already if you'd quit talking about it," he grumbled under his breath.

One of her hands rested playfully on his muscular arm, as she peered over his shoulder at the dishes he'd already washed. "I don't know about that Raph. You might need to go back over these, you're missing some spots," she told him, for no other reason than to get a rise out of him.

With a slight smirk that the woman couldn't see, Raphael flipped the sprayer head on the sink and sent a small blast of water in her direction. Her quiet gasp told him that he'd been successful without even looking.

"My bad Kari. Maybe you could give me a little space here," he said with as straight a tone as he could manage.

"Yeah, space. That's what you need," she agreed evenly, returning to her bowl sitting on the counter. "Since you're taking up all the _space_ over there, how about washing something else for me?"

The red-masked turtle shrugged. "I've been at this so long, what's the difference?"

Karina tapped his shell to get him to look back at her, and immediately dragged the spoon she'd been working with across his face.

With a grunt of irritation he swiped dark batter off with one hand. "You had to go there."

"Accident Raph, just like you," she said sweetly.

"Yeah, yeah..." he mumbled, dashing a palmful of water in his face to get the rest of it off.

He was about to straighten up again, when something cold hit the back of his neck. "_Hey_!"

The red-masked turtle bolted upright, as about half the batter she'd made was now running down his shoulders. His hand instantly scrambled for the sink sprayer, as he flipped the water on full blast with the other. She shrieked somewhat hysterically as he captured her by the wrist, and turned the water on her. Her free hand still retained the bowl in a death grip, as she struggled to get it flipped over a second time. After two failed attempts, she managed to get it over his head with a gleeful laugh.

He only dropped the sprayer to rub chocolate out of his eyes, and shook off his hands partially in the sink. The turtle_ wanted _to be irritated, but something about the sight of his soaked wife only made him roll his eyes. "What was the point of that? Now you have to start all over."

She giggled as she ran a couple of paper towels under the faucet, and attacked the batter on the back of his neck. "It was more fun than dishes, wasn't it?"

The door to the kitchen popped open at that precise moment, and Luke stopped in his tracks when he saw the both of them. "Please tell me that this isn't contagious."

"C'mere and find out Doc," Raphael said mock threateningly, and the man backed closer to the door.

"Nah, don't think so. I'm content to let _you_ guys have all the fun."

Karina caught the red-masked turtle by the shoulder, and directed him to lean over the sink so she could get more of it off. "I'll help you finish everything after this."

"That's the _least_ you can do," he said grumpily.

* * *

The sound of Michelangelo's laughter resounded all the way back into the kitchen when Luke came out, and told him and Donatello what they'd actually been doing in there.

"We heard 'em all right Doc, we were just afraid of interrupting something," Donny cracked, only making his orange-masked brother laugh a little harder.

"I don't understand the appeal." Luke shook his head.

"If you'd give it a chance, maybe you would." Michelangelo snickered, as Donatello punched him lightly in the arm.

"Some of us still enjoy it more than others," the purple-masked turtle pointed out,

"Dude, I didn't even do anything. Everyone's always so quick to look at me, but I'm not the one who _started_ all of it years ago," Michelangelo protested.

"I guess you do get a bit of a bum-rap sometimes." Luke settled into a chair across from the two turtles. "I heard from Marc again last night," he added a little off-handedly. "Talking to him is like listening to a kid at Christmas."

That comment elicited a wide beam from both brothers.

"I'm happy for him," Donatello said wistfully. "It's been a dream of his for years, and it's a good one to have."

Luke's own expression was suddenly a bit far away from where they were sitting. When he'd been that way for a few moments, Michelangelo sat up straighter from lounging on the couch.

"What's the matter Doc? Are you nervous about this too?"

"Oh, sure I am...but that's not really where my mind's at right now. Africa was my parents' last frontier too y' know. They were in the process of running trials in a number of countries, searching for answers to better vaccines. They were making trips over there without me at that point, though most of the research had been including me in the States. I was caught up in residency at the time, but getting ready to finish up one of the stages, and follow them over. You know the rest of the story. Their plane went down, and that was it. Everything they'd worked for went down with them."

Luke paused for a few seconds, averting his eyes to the rug. "Part of me wishes that I could have gone with Marc. I can't finish what my parents were doing, but just serving over there seems like it would have been fitting."

The man swallowed emotion, and forced a smile for the two brothers. "I'm happy, I'm fulfilled here. I don't mean to sound like I'm not. But you guys know as well as I do that when somebody leaves a void, it'll always be there, no matter how many incredible people you have in your life."

He hesitated again, with a smile that seemed more genuine. "They would have liked you guys."

"We would have liked them too, I guarantee it," the purple-banded turtle said softly. "They certainly did a great job raising you. I'm sure the apple doesn't fall that far from the family tree."

"But if it_ did _fall, and no one was around to hear it, would it still make a sound?" Michelangelo asked with a toothy grin, and earned a chuckle out of Luke.

"You're a goofball."


	8. Experienced

*** Some explanation is necessary, per a procedure that I'm going to be following for the rest of this fic. Inside the heart of the Democratic Republic of Congo, you're not going to find many natives who speak English. That being said, there are many times when direct conversation with them is needed for the story-line. In order to make a distinction where a foreign language is being spoken, I've chosen to italicize the entire statement. **

**I'm staying inside of Marcus' POV for this chapter, but automatically provided the translations for another conversation in progress, for the sake of the reader. I'm only going to break from the correct method a couple of times, I promise you.**

* * *

Marcus embraced April fiercely, before reaching to grab one of his bags off the ground. "The plan is to head further east this time, and they said it'd probably be around two weeks before we return to Mbandaka. Your crew should be here..."

"They're supposed to fly in Thursday. Take good notes of everything you see and do out there Marc. I could probably use another source for this story," she added feistily, even though she meant what she said.

"I think there could be a conflict of interest involved." He smiled, and then jolted when he heard two different people calling his name at the same time. "I guess I'm holding them up over there. I kind of wish that you were coming with us again."

"They're going to think I'm a distraction. Seriously Marcus, get moving before someone gets irritated."

"They're just jealous that their wives aren't here with them," he said slyly, before leaning to kiss her.

More than one person casually standing may have been surprised by the man's intensity, but he didn't care. To be honest, it still surprised Marcus sometimes too. He'd never been the most outgoing person on the block, and the magic of having someone like April definitely wasn't lost on him. Marc prayed that it never would be.

"Do good, and show these guys what you're made of," April said, speaking of the team he'd be traveling with.

A couple were medical professionals like him, but the larger part consisted of locals and armed guards, made of up of nationalities from several different countries. Marcus had never been a huge fan of guns, but he knew that the various enemies they could run into on the trail certainly carried them as well. He'd been a little patronized by some of the men for his own refusal to carry any such weapon, but he wasn't concerned about being popular.

Marcus finally separated himself from April and carried both his bags in the direction of the caravan, making a direct bee-line for Rebecca. She was the only female in the group, and the colorfully patterned head-wrap that mostly covered her curls made her stand out even more from the others. The young woman was already deeply engaged in conversation with one of the young African locals as he approached, and from the tones of both parties, he could only imagine what they were saying.

"_Stupid girl! Are you so determined to die out here like the others Unathi? You should have stayed home_," the man pronounced emphatically.

"_You leave them out of this! If I want your commentary on my life Nanji, I will be sure and ask for it," _Rebecca replied, with a lethal glare Marcus hadn't realized she was capable of.

"_Does your friend understand the road we are going to travel? He seems almost as suicidal as you are_."

"_He knows, and unlike you, he does not receive compensation for it. Why don't you stick to carrying your gun, and mind your own business?_"

"_It does not make you one of us, coming here over and over again. You were born what you are, and you cannot change that."_

"_And what am I?" _she demanded icily.

"_You are a foolish little girl, trying to achieve a task far too hopeless to ever finish. You live in a fantasy world, believing you have something you can give these people. You need to go home_."

Rebecca suddenly seemed to notice Marcus standing by nervously, and reached to yank her own belongings off the ground. She shouldered the larger of the bags, and started moving toward another vehicle in the caravan, with Marcus hot on her heels.

"Are you alright? Was he bothering you?" Marcus asked breathlessly.

"He's an old friend, who knows what's _best _for me," she answered sarcastically. "I'm not at a loss for people who can tell me what to do with my life."

"You don't strike me as the type who needs to be told," Marcus replied.

She offered him a half smile. "C'mon Doctor. Let's find a seat before they leave without us."

* * *

The caravan had only traveled about half the day's length into the jungle, before happening upon other travelers on what could hardly be classified as a road. The convoy of four Jeeps came to an immediate stand-still to offer assistance, to what turned out to be a small pack of youth, all under the age of fourteen.

None were without injury, though some were certainly faring better than the others. They all appeared to have suffered burns of some fashion, varying in degrees of severity. The child Marcus had been hovering over for the last hour was in the most serious condition of the five. Marcus was in the process of re-wrapping the boy's lower extremities in sterile bandages, though he was concerned their very surroundings would make the effort a moot one.

The ten year-old was hardly conscious, but there was another boy on the ground with them, who'd been explaining events to Rebecca in a rapid tongue, which the young woman had been slowly translating over the last few minutes.

"They've been on foot for three days, didn't have much hope of reaching help," she told Marcus. "He wants to know whether or not the boy will live."

"Severe infection has set in with his legs, they're probably going to be a total loss. But the measures they took to keep him hydrated and covered on the trail seem to have slowed the progress of shock enough to make a difference for him. You can tell him that his friend has a chance of surviving, because they took such good care of him," Marcus finished on the most positive note that he could manage.

Between the three doctors in the convoy, all five of the youth were treated to the best of their ability right where they had stopped for them, working well past sunset in a make-shift campsite off the path. It had been decided that one of their drivers would return to Mbandaka with the victims as soon as daylight broke, as it was deemed too dangerous to continue traveling by night.

Marcus was nervous about the prospect of survival for the one he'd spent the most time treating, and could only hope that the boy had the strength left inside of him to keep fighting for one more night. The doctor remained at the youth's side even while the boy slept, and Rebecca waited a mere stone's throw away in case she was needed to be of service for him.

"Sloan," someone called softly, as he pulled aside the flap of the temporary shelter. "You two should get something to eat. You won't last out here if you don't keep up your strength."

Marcus got to his feet, dusting off his hands lightly. "Can someone stay with him?"

"I can be on duty," the man volunteered. "Go on ahead, I won't budge until you get back."

Even in the near darkness, Rebecca seemed to intuitively know exactly where to step, so Marcus let the young woman lead the way back around the edge of the campsite, to where most of the men were congregating.

"Dr. Sloan, please come sit with me," a grey-haired gentleman with an appropriate English accent invited him. "Miss Tompkins, please make yourself as comfortable as you can. I've already asked for rations to be set aside for the pair of you. You've certainly earned a moment's rest, I daresay."

"Thank you Mr. Kirkland," Marcus smiled, as he accepted a canteen from the man. "There's nothing like jumping right in, is there?"

"We _are_ off to a fast start I'd say. I've wanted to ask you Dr. Sloan, whether or not you have military experience."

A small laugh escaped the doctor. "No sir, none. This is very much a departure from the norm for me. I've only ever lived inside of a city my entire life."

"You mean to say you've only worked in the confines of an office or a hospital?"

Marcus wasn't sure of the least confusing way to answer that question, so he decided to ask one of his own. "What makes you ask?"

"I've been involved in these types of ventures for several years Doctor, and I've seen a lot of new blood. It's always an adjustment, going from the hospital room straight to the field. Some take to it better than others, but there's almost always a period of adaption that has to take place. Military men seem to excel at it father than average, which is why I wanted to know.

I watched you today, much longer than you probably realized. You handled yourself like an old pro, someone who's been doing this for a very long time. I can't tell you the number of men I've seen break down facing the kind of third degree burns you dealt with today, especially on a child. I must say that I was impressed Doctor, most impressed indeed."

Marcus ducked his head modestly, without the slightest clue how he could provide an explanation for his "field" experience. He decided it was better not to even attempt it. "Well, I'm just glad to be here, and that we found them when we did. These_ kids _are the amazing ones, they just kept going, never stopped carrying the worst of their wounded. They're the ones who should be commended."

"When you think about everything that they already lost, the fact that they had the tenacity to keep going at all...It's a testament to the strength of these people," Rebecca added from the side. "Can you imagine watching your settlement burn, seeing loved ones die, being injured yourself, and still being able to keep going?"

"You have a lot of experience alongside some of these tribes, don't you Miss Tompkins? You speak their tongue like it's second nature," Kirkland asserted.

"Only most of my life Mr. Kirkland," she said wryly. "They're true survivors, so much stronger than they're given credit for. You could spend several years among them, but they would still have the ability to surprise you." Rebecca didn't elaborate any more for that moment as she stared into the flames of their small fire, but the grey-haired man's curious gaze stayed on her.

She took a slow sip from a canteen of her own, as if to grant herself time to gather some more thoughts. "Some of these people have been pushed so far, there are entire clans and tribes that are on the brink of extinction. Animals aren't the only endangered species in Africa. The whole mess with the Tutsi people and the Rwandan genocide should have taught us just that. Depending on who you listen to, there were somewhere between 800,000-1,000,000 people killed in the span of 100 _days_. And millions more have died in the Congo since, either from direct result of conflict, or physical conditions that were brought _about_ by conflict."

With a sigh she sat back further in her folding chair, and offered a glance in Marc's direction. "You know how dangerous it is to get me started. I'm shutting up now."

"Rebecca, somebody has to say it," Marcus replied tiredly. "I think a lot of us walk around with tunnel vision, and no clue what's happening outside our small sphere of existence. It takes someone as passionate as you, to open the eyes of others to the idea that there's more going on in this world, and it should matter. Whatever you do, don't shut up."


	9. Stalling

The purple-banded turtle was about half-asleep, enjoying the heat emanating from Jenna's body next to him. When he felt her stir, he woke up further as well, and caught her by the arm. "Don't go yet," he murmured softly.

The woman nestled more closely to his side for a moment, and twisted her head so that she could kiss him.

"I'm supposed to meet my Mom and Tim in about an hour," she reminded him apologetically.

"So traffic was backed up. This is New York City, people expect it," the turtle joked.

"C'mon Donny. If we both get up now, I should have a chance for some breakfast with you."

"I'm supposed to be more tempted by food than I am you? What planet do you think I'm _from_?" Donatello drew her cheek back toward him a second time.

She exhaled softly as she relaxed in his embrace for a few more seconds silently, before fixing him with a light blue gaze. "I was thinking you might be able to help me with something later on today. The new recording I have to finish for the meeting requires some male harmony. Would you be completely opposed to learning the part for me?"

"You want my help with the song that's going to launch you?" He whistled under his breath. "No pressure or anything. Sure you wouldn't rather ask Raph? This_ is _Miss Clarkson we're talking about," he teased her.

"Don't say her name - you'll jinx it. And they haven't _said_ they're buying anything, they just want to meet me."

"Right, and I'm sure they come all the way to Manhattan just to 'meet' new song-writers all the time."

"Just shush. Will you help me, or not?"

"I'm a far cry from a professional Jen, but you know I'll do the best I can."

The raven haired girl rewarded him with the sweetest kiss of the morning.

"You'd better get up pretty soon, or I'm not going to let you," he warned her.

She was tempted to tease him further since he was already hooked, but chose to rise instead. "Being responsible is the pits sometimes, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I liked it better when you didn't want to follow any of the rules."

Dark hair flew behind her as she pounced back onto the mattress, and he allowed her to push him against the headboard. "I hope that doesn't mean you're getting bored with me."

"Haven't we already had this conversation? You're about as far from boring as Raph is from being a wimp."

"I don't know Donny, Karina's sure started softening him up from what I can see."

"Tell that to the eight guys he laid out in about two minutes last week."

"Point taken...as long as I've still got your interest."

"You've got so much more than that," he replied seriously, tugging lightly on a strand of hair that had been covering her cheek. "Now you better get up, before you get any more behind."

"If they're cross with me for being late, I'll blame it on you."

"Sure, like they'll believe I'm the trouble-maker. I'm just the quiet computer geek, how could I be responsible for it?"

"You're not fooling anyone with that 'quiet' bit anymore Donny. The whole shy thing is so ten years ago."

As she finished his hand traveled around the back of her neck, smoothing across her skin softly. The teasing expression faltered from her features, as she closed her eyes for a couple more seconds.

"Can we stay in love forever Donny?"

"I sort of thought that was the plan," he replied, a little less serious than she had been.

"No, I mean...People can stay together for a long time, but they might not keep_ this_. As much as they still love each other, it's like passion can naturally fade. I don't ever want to get to the place where it feels like I'm on autopilot. Does this make sense to you at all?"

He nodded understandingly. "You're the only girl I've ever loved Jen, so I can't claim to have experience with the matter. But I don't see it fizzling any time soon, not when I can look at you and still the see same girl who blew my mind the first time I saw you in Central Park. I feel crazier now than I did then. If anything, I'd say it's growing, not fading."

"You really _are_ trying to make me late, aren't you?"

* * *

That evening Raphael and Michelangelo took up what had become one of their customary positions over the last several months, hanging out with Greg and Brandon in their apartment top-side. Brandon had moved in with Greg shortly after becoming a full-fledged member of the happy band, since the two formed a natural fit as the only remaining human bachelors of the group.

"How's work treating you now a days Heff?" Raphael asked Greg, as the man returned to the living room with an armful of sodas.

"I'm getting a little bit bored if I'm being honest. Intelligence is my thing and all, but I do miss the chase, and trying to somehow keep up with your sister," Greg quipped with a glance at Brandon. "It's definitely not the same around there without her, but I can't blame Kat for getting out and settling down. I guess that's what responsible adults are supposed to do, right Raph?" he finished with a wink in the red-masked turtle's direction.

Raphael turned the conversation right back on Greg. "What about your little girlfriend in Okinawa Heff, you still talkin' to her?"

"I told you not to call her that, it's a purely professional relationship. I'm only trying to keep up with all the rumors flying around about the Akiudo."

Speaking the name of the Japanese gang that had messed with their lives so severely months before seemed to instantly weigh down the atmosphere. Michelangelo only allowed it to continue for the span of a few seconds, before crossing his arms impatiently.

"We've been sitting here like Chatty Cathys for the last hour. Are we going to pick a movie or not?"

Greg scooped up the remote, and tossed it in the orange-masked turtle's direction. "I think it's technically your turn Mikey."

Raphael groaned immediately. "Can we avoid anything that contains 'Space' or the 'Attack of' in the title?"

"Sure Raph, maybe we could just watch Crouching Tiger for the two-hundredth time. Heck, we don't even have to watch it, you and Heff could quote it."

"They'd better be able to, because they're not going to _find_ the DVD," Brandon said dryly, and Michelangelo offered his palm for the man to slap.

"Why didn't I think of that?"

"Weren't you complaining that we're talking too much? Pick something bonehead, and let's get this show on the road," Raphael interjected.

"You have to give me a couple minutes bro, you've vastly limited my pool by your restrictions."

"_Pick_ something before I shove that remote down your throat."

While the younger turtle browsed through a list of new arrivals on a pay-per-view channel, Brandon yanked the handle on the recliner he was sitting in to extend the foot-rest.

"Man this feels good," the man remarked. "I think I'm gonna sit here for the next two weeks."

Raphael snickered at him. "Try it Brandon. You'll be begging for a sneak ninja attack."

Brandon flexed a muscular arm at him in return. "You think it'll be that easy Raph? You're forgetting I almost took a match with you last week."

"Almost, as in you lost. You're celebrating that why again?"

"It's just nice to know I haven't completely wasted twenty years of Tai Kwon Do. One of these days, I'm going to celebrate for real."

"Keep dreaming, and in the meantime you can always beat up on Heff to achieve your satisfaction," Raphael cracked in return.

"Do I resemble a punching bag to you?" Greg demanded from the couch.

"Nah, the bag can handle more hits than you can." Raphael snorted, as the human rolled his eyes at him.

"Cold Raph, real cold. Mike, can we watch something so he'll shut up already?"

"You have to learn to tune him out Heff. It's not all that hard, it just takes a little focus."

"You have to tune _me_ out?" Raphael scoffed.

"Alright, I'm officially bored, and getting hungrier by the second," Brandon announced to cut off the exchange. "Can we get this night started sometime before the sun comes up?"

Greg looked at his watch and groaned. "Vinny's would take forever to deliver this time of night. They're only a couple of blocks away - it'd be faster to go get it myself."

"It'd be nice to hit a store anyway, since _somebody_ had to finish off the pork-rinds without telling anyone," Brandon added, and both turtles glanced at each other innocently.

"Okay then," Greg said decisively. "I'll call something in, and take a little side-trip while I'm out. For the love of Pete, pick something to watch before I get back."

Brandon unexpectedly got to his feet with him. "I'm coming with you. I have to make sure we get a variety of stuff, not just the junk you like."

* * *

The two men took their time in the convenience store, since they had to wait for the pizzas to be finished anyway. They worked their way up from the back of the store separately, pouring over the small aisles with about six other people that were occupying the space, besides the lone clerk running register up at the front.

"I still don't know what Raph really means when he asks for something 'good'," Brandon remarked as he caught up to Greg. "He and Mike eat just about anything, so does it make a difference what we get?"

Greg chuckled. "It doesn't really. As long as we come back with something edible, they're generally going t-"

A young woman cut him off before he could finish, practically running him over in her haste to get down the aisle. She didn't even look at him until she'd already passed the man by, and Greg was struck by the fear in her eyes. He was about to pursue her, when a loud voice carried over from the front counter.

"I know you've got a way to open the safe man, don't mess with me. Now get a move on, before I blow your freakin' head off!"

Greg swore under his breath and quickly ducked closer to the shelving, to minimize the chance of being seen. Brandon instantly crouched down beside him, as Greg was attempting to form a rapid game plan.

"Are you armed?" Brandon whispered.

The man nodded silently. "It'd be nice to avoid a hostage situation though. Let me listen for a couple more seconds, and we need to call 911."

Brandon already had his cell-phone, and seemed to be only waiting for the word to use it. Greg exchanged another glance with him, and could see that Brandon was mulling over the panic button on his watch, and alerting the guys that something was going on.

Greg shook his head sharply, and motioned toward the ceiling. "The cameras Brandon. We can't risk the guys-"

"You two! Up on your feet, now!"

Both heads jerked up to see a second masked man, now covering them with the barrel of his shot-gun.


	10. Handling

Without having a true choice in the matter, Greg and Brandon carefully got to their feet under the gunman's direction.

"You got cell-phones?" the stranger demanded. "I wanna see 'em in front of me, toss them on the ground right now."

Greg obeyed first, and jerked his head at Brandon to get the bristling man to do the same. The masked man kicked their phones underneath a display case, and motioned with the barrel of his shot-gun for them to start moving.

"Start walking toward the front of the store, and keep your hands in plain sight."

Brandon shot Greg another anxious glance, to which Greg shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Be cool. Don't try anything," he told Brandon softly.

The barrel of the shot gun rapped hard across Greg's back.

"No talking. While we're moving, go ahead and grab your wallets for me. There had better be some cash in your hands in about ten seconds here."

They wordlessly obeyed the gunman, as they joined the ranks of the other customers that had been herded to the front of the store, where the other would be robber was training his own large-gauge rifle. He also seemed to be the true leader of their attempt, and took command the moment Greg and Brandon emerged with his partner.

"Single file line across the counter, do it right now!" he ordered, giving a teenage boy an extra shove when he didn't move fast enough.

"Hey, take it easy, okay?" Greg suggested calmly. "No reason to hurt anybody. Why don't you gentlemen take whatever it is you came for, and let these nice people go? No need to complicate things with blood, is there?"

The swarthy figure swore openly, instantly on guard against him. "You're a _cop_ aren't you? Don't try to deny it, you've got pig written all over you."

"I'm not a cop. All I'm saying is, you don't have to make this worse. You haven't hurt anyone yet, and there's no one forcing you to," Greg remained completely even.

The man walked briskly over to him and struck Greg in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. "You_ are _a cop! You've got a badge and a gun, I'd bet money on it. Lemme see both of them, or I'm gonna put a hole in your head."

"Okay," Greg acquiesced. "I'm just gonna to reach for them real slow here."

The overbearing man snagged Greg's service weapon off of him before he could even get a hand on it, and demanded his identification a second time. He studied the badge Greg turned over for several seconds, his true thoughts on the matter completely disguised by the mask he wore. "FBI huh?"

"I told you I wasn't a cop."

"Like that's supposed to be any better?" the second piped up, focusing a steely-eyed glare on Brandon now. "Are you his partner? I suppose you're packing too."

"No, I don't have a gun," Brandon answered, attempting to keep his voice as even as Greg had been.

"He's lyin' man, I found both of them hiding together, no doubt planning something," the slighter of the pair informed the first, who in turn laid the barrel of his weapon across Brandon's jaw, striking him solidly in the mouth.

Brandon's golden brown eyes narrowed dangerously at the two gunmen, and Greg could tell he was inwardly fuming. Brandon could probably take either one of these jokers with his hands tied behind his back, but he'd likely get someone shot in the process. Greg simply prayed that the man would hold his temper in check.

"I don't have a gun. I'm not an Agent, I'm a teacher!" Brandon seethed.

His attacker nudged one of Brandon's arms forcefully with his rifle. "I've had a lot of teachers, and none of them looked a thing like you."

"I work out - so sue me!" Brandon's anger was close to spilling over completely, and Greg was intent on stepping in before things went any further south.

"Look, you have our cooperation. Just take your money and run." The ever-present calm remained in the Agent's tone.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, so we can step right into your little trap?" the larger man said snidely. "I want your partner's badge and gun, and I want both of you on your knees in front of me."

"He's telling the truth," Greg insisted. "I'm the only one."

A gun cracked down hard on his shoulder blade, almost flattening him.

"This ain't the first time we've been followed Agent, but I guarantee it'll be the last. You're gonna send that message to all your little friends now, aren't you?"

"Yes," Greg agreed breathlessly, eager to say anything that would keep the man calmer. "I'll tell them not to follow you. But these people are innocent, you've got to let them go."

"When I've got another weapon in my hand, we can talk about letting somebody go." the man hissed into his ear.

"He doesn't have it," Greg said suddenly. "He failed his proficiencies, he's not allowed to carry a firearm."

The threatening man turned to his partner. "Search him," he commanded brusquely.

The second man had barely gotten a hand on Brandon, when the sound of sirens echoed outside the walls of the convenience store. The larger one yanked Greg by his collar, back onto his feet.

"You get rid of them Agent. You get rid of them or I'm gonna start killing people, and you can watch."

He shuffled Greg forward with one arm protectively around the Agent's chest, while he gripped his rifle in the other. Greg held his breath as he walked compliantly for a few steps, until he saw the barrel of the weapon pointing at the floor out of the corner of his eye. Greg took the opportunity to jerk the elbow of his free arm into his captor's face, connecting firmly with his forehead. As the masked man stumbled Greg jerked the rifle out of his grasp, and whirled around to level it on the criminal.

Brandon shot off his own knees, but didn't get far enough before his gunman brought the full weight of his shotgun down on the back of his head, felling him with a single blow. He raised the weapon for a second unnecessary blow, right around the moment that Greg caught up to him. He drop-kicked the man so hard that he crashed into another display case, and Greg snatched up his fallen weapon as well.

It was only then that Greg glanced over at the other customers. "Can you guys grab me something to tie them up with, and somebody find a phone!"

"Those weren't the cops outside?" an incredulous woman asked.

"Those police drove right past us," Greg replied. "They weren't even headed here."

It took a few seconds for the shock to start wearing off, but the customers did eventually spring into action. Greg bent over Brandon anxiously, carefully handling his head as he turned his friend over. He winced as he lingered over the obvious injuries, and shook his head.

_Maybe being bored isn't such a bad thing after all._

Brandon came around a little groggily before the police even showed up, and made it exceedingly clear that he wasn't going to the hospital. As it happened, their friend Tim was working the beat that night, and one of the first responders on the scene after getting a call from Greg.

"He wants to go back to our place, a couple of the _guys _are there," Greg said pointedly, so Tim would know who he was talking about.

"Oh. I can make sure he gets there, if you don't mind giving a statement to the others. That's_ if _you're alright Greg," Timothy clarified.

The Agent nodded. "That's fine, I'll stick with the cops, if you'll take him."

"I'm still capable of hearing you know," Brandon grunted in irritation, refusing anyone's help in rising. "And I'm perfectly fine to walk too."

"Brandon, don't be an idiot. I won't make you go to the hospital, but you're getting a ride to the apartment. At which point, Luke is going to come have a look at you. End of discussion," Tim said without a hint of compromise.  
The man rolled his eyes in return, but seemed to realize there was no point in arguing.

* * *

Brandon was even more irritated when Katherine showed up toting the baby along _with _Luke. "Aw, c'mon sis. Do you have to treat this like some big emergency?"

"Reina didn't even wake up Bran, she's fine. You didn't expect me to send Luke on over and just sit at home, did you?" Katherine was a little exasperated herself.

"Yeah, I wish you would have. I don't need everyone fawning over me, I'm_ fine_."

"You would have showed up if it was me hurt," she pointed out, while Luke was probing the back of Brandon's skull.

"You're going to need some stitches," Luke mentioned.

"I knew you'd make a production out of this. And would you guys quit looking at me like that?" Brandon requested of the two turtles sitting across from them.

"What do you think that panic button is, decoration?" Raphael demanded. "Why didn't you guys use them?"

"And bring you two barreling into a convenience store equipped with cameras and half a dozen witnesses? Yeah, _that_ sounds like a good idea."

"We would have thought of something." Raphael scowled in return.

"Well, you didn't need to, because Greg took care of those drugged up idiots all on his own. I was a huge help in there, let me assure you," he finished sarcastically, anger brimming over the surface once more. "Seriously though, can I get some space for a couple of minutes?"

Brandon even jerked away from Luke's hand, and gave him a somewhat pleading look. "Let me be for a little while, that's all I'm asking. Nothing's in danger of falling off, right?"

Luke opened his mouth to argue, but apparently decided not to bother. Raphael and Katherine followed him as he headed toward the kitchen, but Michelangelo lingered behind, refusing to budge.

"What are you so angry about?" the orange-masked turtle asked after about a minute.

"I don't want to talk about it," the man answered softly.

"Too bad, because I'm not going anywhere. Are you mad at us?"

Brandon sat up partially on his elbows to face the turtle better. "No, of course not. I'm frustrated about what happened, and I'm not used to people trying to take care of me. I've always had to look after myself."

"But you don't have just yourself now," the turtle replied. "You wanted in on this, and it's a package deal. That means you have to accept everything that comes along with it, even Doc's overprotective hands once in awhile. Is it really that bad, having somebody else worry about you?"

"That's not the real issue Mikey. I can't stand being in a place like that, where I was absolutely useless. We give Greg a hard time, but he handled himself in there so much better than I did."

"He's an experienced Agent Brandon, he's been in that kind of spot before. If those idiots hadn't been packing, they would have received a very different reception from you."

"You're darn right about that."


	11. Betrayal

***And one more time I have provided translations, despite being in Marc's POV. Don't hang me por favor. ;)**

* * *

Over the course of four days, the convoy had traveled nearly as far as they could, using the remote path that narrowly handled their vehicles. The next "road" that they needed to take was impassable even to the Jeeps, and would require them to carry on to any further locations on foot. Everyone had been prepared for the eventuality, as they approached the hill country where refugees were hiding in droves from the conflict that had driven them there.

The caravan was settling in for another night's rest, before they would begin the more difficult trek starting the next morning. Marcus had been getting quickly acclimated to the low maintenance style of living, refusing to complain even when he _was_ uncomfortable. The only luxury that he'd clung to for the trip was the cell-phone that Donatello had souped up for him. The purple-masked turtle had not only altered both his phone and April's for satellite contact, but also with the ability to retain a solar charge in a relatively short period of time.

The trees overhead were not as dense as other places in the rainforest, allowing for enough small-breaks of sunshine along their trail for him to achieve an almost full charge over the last couple of days. He'd been keeping phone calls with April or home extremely short to conserve power. As he settled down around the fire that night, he followed through with the call he'd promised his wife she would be getting, as long as the satellite signal cooperated.

It didn't start out as a leisurely conversation, as he tried to relay the last couple days of events with as little explanation as possible, and to find out how things were faring back in the city with her crew. Eventually he relaxed a little bit more, realizing he would have plenty of time to charge the next day.

"...It sounds like it's going to be great April. Are the rest of your people onboard with the changes?"

"I already talked it through with my head at the station, so they pretty much just have to go with the flow of it now. I'm really hoping that Rebecca will come around to being on camera, but I don't know if it'll happen. She might be too shy to go for it."

"I think there's more to her than that April. You should see her talk to these people out here in their own languages - you'd never think she was a quiet person."

"What about that guy, the one you said was giving her a hard time the day you left?"

"Things got better with him actually. He's had us riding in his Jeep the last couple of days, and you'd never guess he and Rebecca had an issue. It's nice to see some things can be worked out."

"And tomorrow's the day you start on foot?"

"Back-packing, for lack of a better term," Marcus replied. "Our guides are leading us into the hill country, hoping to help us find the pockets of people who are isolated. I'll have to be more careful of using the phone when we get deeper in, but I'll have a lot of opportunities to charge when we clear the trees tomorrow."

"I'll be waiting to hear from you. Watch your step out there, okay?"

"I am, and I've got a bunch of other guys watching out for me too. I love you."

"Love you too."

Marcus tucked the phone back at his side, and swiveled in his chair to see Rebecca a few feet away from him, having a somewhat guarded exchange with Nanji. She didn't seem to be on the defensive, but her gestures that went along with the speech were uncertain at best. The young woman turned as Nanji was asking her something else, and caught Marcus' eye for an instant. With a shrug of her shoulders she walked over to join the doctor, with Nanji directly behind her.

"What's going on?" Marcus asked.

"He wants to take us somewhere. He said that it isn't far, and it carries great spiritual significance to his family," Rebecca replied, casting another look at Nanji over her shoulder before continuing. "I feel like it's too late already, but he's quite certain the others would not look fondly on a side-trip for the morning."

"How _far_ does he consider not that far?" the man had to ask.

"He told me it wouldn't take us more than twenty minutes out of the way. I think that we ought be getting all the rest that we can, but it's a matter of honor to him. It's very important in some cultures, and the Congolese is one of them."

"I'm familiar with the concept," Marcus answered. "But is it safe for us to be doing separately?"

The grey-haired Ryan Kirkland had been relaxing nearby too, close enough to have heard their topic of conversation. "Best thing to do would be to wait until closer to dawn. Get some rest right now, and head that way nearer to sun-up. There would be less possibility of being bothered by any kind of beasts at that hour, because they'll be settling down from their nocturnal activities. The other men probably wouldn't object if they only had to wait a short while for you back here. If you'll wait til then, I'll go with you too."

Marcus nodded at once. "I like the sound of that better. Will you ask him Rebecca?"

The young woman turned, and relayed Kirkland's proposal to Nanji. Marcus caught the flicker of dismay in the man's eyes, but he recovered control of his expression in a blink, and quickly agreed.

* * *

It was roughly an hour before dawn when they set off that morning in one of the Jeeps, having already packed up their sparse belongings before leaving the campsite. A renewed thrill of excitement ran through Marcus, coupled with a tingling of remaining nerves as he considered the day that was ahead of them.

He hadn't suffered any unusual difficulty in breathing or tightness in his chest associated with the asthmatic condition that had partially hampered him for almost his entire life, but he was still prepared just the same. The proper medication never left his side, and this morning it was the only thing he was carrying along with his phone.

Kirkland allowed Nanji to have the wheel of the Jeep since he knew where they were going, and simply kicked back against the front passenger seat beside him, with his weapon resting across his knees in a casual manner. The car-load was quiet on the way there, so that the engine was the only thing disturbing the otherwise serene quiet of the rainforest.

Marcus' gaze unconsciously shifted to Rebecca, to watch the young woman fingering the multi-colored beaded band that adorned her wrist again."Is that special to you?"

She glanced up with a small start, but then smiled faintly. "It was my Mom's. A Bandundu woman made it for her, on that first trip into the rainforest. She was one of my parents' earliest contacts inside one of the tribes."

"It's a beautiful thing. That's nice that you still have it."

Presently they could hear the sound of water in addition to the noise of their vehicle, and they perked up when Rebecca translated for Nanji, that they were getting close to where he was taking them. For the last few yards the African blazed his own trail with the Jeep, crashing through some brush to get them as close to the edge of the rocky clearing as he could.

A small river ran through it, but the spectacular feature of this particular place was a cascading waterfall that descended from a rock face, what looked like thousands of feet. It wasn't the biggest waterfall Marcus had ever seen, but it was definitely the highest, and the combination with the rainforest setting left him a bit breathless.

Rebecca glanced at him after a couple of minutes of silence, and couldn't keep from smiling. "What are you thinking right now?"

"That this is too perfect. Something like this only exists in movies."

She laughed softly. "The inspiration has to come from somewhere, doesn't it?"

He settled down on a flat rock, exhaling deeply as he felt the spray from the breaking water drift over on a breeze. "You've probably seen it all, haven't you?"

She shook her head. "No Marc, not even close."

They'd been sitting on the rock for a few moments of contemplative silence, when Marcus noticed her body stiffen in the pre-dawn light, and sat up further himself.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, I felt...I don't know what it was," she whispered.

Marcus was attempting to figure out why she was whispering, as he glanced around to see Nanji and Kirkland huddled close to the edge of the water, neither looking concerned.

"Rebecca?" Marcus said questioningly.

"It's nothing. It must be nothing." She sighed, and allowed the area to lapse back into the natural silence, interspersed with the sound of birds and a couple of stray monkeys, chattering back and forth in anticipation of daylight. The peace only held for a few seconds longer, before the sound of a guttural command from behind startled both Marcus and Rebecca out of their wits.

They leaped to their feet instantly, though Marcus had no clue what had just been uttered. The stranger who had startled them was backed up with several more individuals behind him, carrying semi-automatic weapons. The African man seemed to be literally clothed in arrogance, even as he squinted at them with one eye that was scarred and useless.

The men had reproduced in the clearing faster than Marcus even had time to take everything in - and all their guns were trained in their direction.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" Marcus called, as if the men could understand him. "If we're trespassing, we can move on!"

Only a harshly spoken foreign tongue answered him, and Rebecca swallowed sharply.

"He doesn't want us to move. Keep your arms out straight in front of you."

The man's next angry speech was directed at her, and Marcus could read from her body language that this wasn't a simple territorial dispute.

"_He does not understand_," Rebecca explained to the speaker in his own tongue. "_If you want him to obey, I have to translate for him_."

"_Tell him to be silent_," the irritated man replied, then looked past where the two of them were standing, in a way that made Marcus look over his shoulder too.

Nanji had his own rifle trained on Kirkland, and was still in the process of convincing the stubborn Brit to lay down his weapon. The grey-haired gentleman seemed no more willing to relinquish his gun than he wanted to jump off a cliff.

"Rebecca," Marcus hissed as softly as he could to get her attention, and she jolted at the sight behind them.

"Nanji! _What are you doing_?" She'd barely taken half a step before the scarred man caught her by the arm, and wrenched it fiercely as he yanked her toward him.

Marcus automatically took an angry step of his own, and was met by a gun pressed further into his face. The doctor held his breath for a long moment, as he wondered if the African would actually unload on him. The man merely covered him to prevent him from moving any farther, while the speaker addressed Rebecca again.

"_This man is a doctor, is he not_?"

Twice the man asked the question, and the young woman didn't respond at all.

"What is he saying Rebecca?" Marcus barely managed to raise his voice, so great was his fear in that moment.

"_He is not the one you want_," Rebecca told the stranger firmly. "_You have been led astray - he cannot help you_."

The man cocked his head at her, as though considering something in his mind. Without warning he turned on heel, and flung his hunting knife past them, striking Kirkland squarely in the left shoulder. "_Let us now see what kind of a man he is_," he said calmly. "_You may tell him that he has ten minutes to treat him_."


	12. Kidnapping & Honor

Before Rebecca even had a chance to say a word to Marcus, the man ducked under the gun that was in his face, and dashed to where his guardian was bleeding on the ground.

"Ryan, _stop_, don't try to move!" he ordered him soundly. "That blade needs to stay put for a minute, don't jar it the wrong way!"

"Forget about me Dr. Sloan," the man replied with a ragged breath. "It doesn't matter - it would be a wasted effort. Just keep your own head straight, and look for a way out of this."

"You're not wounded mortally, don't you talk like that," Marcus said sternly. "If he wanted to kill you, I'm sure he could have. I don't know what their game is, but it doesn't seem to involve anyone dying yet. So you hold on with me, let's keep this arm elevated - yeah, just like that, and I'll get it wrapped properly."

Marcus looked like he was trying to ignore Nanji, who was only standing a couple of feet away. He was just starting to shrug out of his own shirt to create strips for a pressure wrap, when Rebecca hit the ground beside him.

"Don't bother with that Marcus, I've got the real stuff for you right here."

She shoved a familiar duffle bag which contained the most basic of medical supplies in his direction, and he looked at her in surprise.

"Where did you get this?"

"From the Jeep, _all _of our stuff is in there. Nanji must have loaded it back up when we were otherwise occupied. This was his plan all along - I'm pretty sure he set up everything!" she fumed, shooting a look at the African that would have killed him if it were possible.

Marcus dug through the bag to find the correct material for wrapping, and Rebecca retrieved scissors to cut it to length for him. Then she supplied strips for him, as the doctor wrapped it tightly _around_ the knife buried in Kirkland's shoulder.

"Work fast Marcus, you're under an instated time limit," Rebecca warned him.

"What did he say to you Rebecca? Why did he do that?"

"He was trying to verify that you were a doctor. I told them that they had the wrong man, and that was when he...Mr. Kirkland, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"There now Miss Tompkins, don't go apologizing for something you didn't do. Keep your eyes open, and stop worrying about _me_," the Brit replied.

"I'm the one they want, is that it?" Marcus asked her directly.

She nodded. "It seems that way, but they haven't said what for."

Marcus surreptitiously withdrew his cell-phone as he was bent over Kirkland on the ground, and pressed it into the man's pocket. "I don't know what's going to happen here, but I think you're better off carrying this than I am."

The basic sterile wrapping had hardly been finished, before a gun was jammed rudely into Marc's back, and a command was uttered over him.

"He wants us to get up Marcus, he says you're out of time," Rebecca filled in for him.

Marcus got to his feet somewhat shakily in front of the scarred man, and glanced back at Rebecca nervously. "Ask him what he wants from me."

Rebecca repeated the question from him, and then lightly tugged Marcus by his arm when she got a response. "Stand aside. He wants to see your work."

The African shouldered his weapon for a moment as he closely inspected Kirkland's shoulder, and then nodded in satisfaction.

"_Do I need to force another demonstration of the doctor's skills_?" he challenged Rebecca.

She scowled slightly at him in return. "_Only if your next target happens to be Nanji_," she said sarcastically.

The way the man chuckled was extremely disturbing to Rebecca, and it seemed to bother Marcus as well.

"Rebecca, I need you to translate exactly what I'm telling you," Marcus spoke up. "If he wants me I'll go quietly, but there's no reason for him to need you or Ryan."

"Marc, I really don't think-"

"Just tell him."

Rebecca relayed his words with a wince, and received laughter from almost the entire group that time.

Marcus was paling fast in the early morning light, his breath catching as panic seemed to be setting in. "Please try again, can you say that-"

The barrel of the semi-automatic forcefully nudged his chest before he could say another word.

"_He'll _go_ with us regardless_. _Tell him to be still, I do not require him for his mouth_," the leader proclaimed to Rebecca, without ever taking his gaze off of Marcus.

"It's not going to do any good Marcus," she told the doctor softly. "Thank you for trying - but I wouldn't let him take you without me anyway. He wants you to be quiet, and I think you'd better listen."

The scarred man barked a command over his shoulder and one of his followers stepped forward, producing the leather thongs he'd asked for. Under his leader's direction, the man bound both Marc and Rebecca's wrists in front of them, and then gave Marcus a rough shove in the direction of the other men. He kept a firm hand on Rebecca's shoulder himself, guiding her the same way that he'd just pushed Marcus.

The doctor threw another terrified glance over his shoulder, and his voice rang out more one time to Kirkland.

"Ryan, call my wife, tell her I love her!"

He received someone's sharp fist in the ribcage for the outburst, and another rough shove from behind.

"_Nanji, finish it_!" the leader called, sending a terrible chill down Rebecca's spine when she heard it.

She had no time to outwardly react, before two men yanked her off the ground, and deposited into the back of the very Jeep she and Marcus had arrived in. Even attempting to turn her head that direction only resulted in someone grasping her firmly by the chin, and jerking it back facing forward.

* * *

The others weren't checking Nanji's work, and the outright killing of the man when he was utterly defenseless still irked him the wrong way. The traitor lowered his weapon threateningly over Ryan on the ground, and cracked him across the forehead without so much as a word. Then he backed the barrel off somewhat, and fired a shot into the earth a couple of inches away from Kirkland's head, intentionally missing.

Nanji trotted back across the rocks, leaving Ryan bleeding worse on the ground, but very much alive. He grimly brought up the rear behind the men he'd sworn his life to, forcing a stoic face for their leader as he allowed Nanji to catch up with him.

"_It certainly took you long enough_," the scarred man said reproachfully.

"_It was no easy feat to get them separated. You will not hurt the girl, will you Ajamu? She is our only link to the doctor. I can no more understand him than you can," _Nanji replied.

"_What happens to her is my concern, and not yours Nanji. Who do you serve_?"

"_My life and honor is yours_."

"_Then do me the _honor _of not questioning my intentions. Continue to prove yourself worthy brother, and you will go very far. Never again will you scrape by, only attempting to survive. You will never want for anything that you desire. The resources of the land before us are in my grasp, and I can give them to whoever I please. Serve me well Nanji, and you will have more than you can even contain."_

The sick feeling in the pit of Nanji's stomach was_ almost _non-existent; he'd been forcing it down for days, and now that it had actually come to it, it had been easier than he expected. It was only a matter of self-preservation. No one else was going to look out for him - the time had finally come to do something for himself. He pushed every emotion out of his mind, only allowing for a cold awareness that task was finally complete to consume him.

_

* * *

_

Two Hours Later - Around 3AM EST

Luke groggily shook off the remnants of sleep, as his hand felt around a bit disoriented in search of his ringing cell-phone. He nearly knocked the alarm clock off the table in the process, before he was able to locate it in the darkness. He sat up on one elbow, squinting to make out the blurry numbers on the caller ID, before the sequence suddenly clicked for him.

Katherine had woken up beside him in the midst of the struggle to find the phone, and she rolled over on her side to face him as he was answering the cell-phone.

"Hey, good morning April." His voice was warm, even if it was traced with weariness. "I bet you've got a busy day ahead of you. I want to hear...Wait, wait a minute, slow down. Start over April, I can't understand what you're saying!"

The change in his tone was dramatic enough to cause Katherine to sit up entirely, and turn on the lamp on her side of the bed. Luke was rolling upright as well, balancing partially on his end of the mattress as he listened to April for close to a minute.

"Do they know...But what are they doing April? Surely they're doing _something_!" Luke's voice soared much higher than his natural range. "Oh God, how could they let...No, I'm sure they're trying, but..."

Coherent sentences were simply failing him in that instant, and he could feel Katherine's tense gaze boring into him.

"But they're looking aren't they? They're professionals; they're supposed to protect him!" Luke forcibly shut his own mouth, as he realized that he wasn't helping April to feel any better right now, and listened to her talk a little bit more.

"No, I'll take care of that," he said faintly. "But you said it sounded like they wanted him alive. Hold onto hope April, don't give up yet...No, I-I understand, but someone's going to have to call them too...Yeah, I can let you go, I need to start doing things on this end anyway. It's going to take some scrambling and _a lot _of help from Victoria...No, you're not going to ride this out alone April...I don't care if you like it! You don't expect me to sit back like nothing's going on, do you? I'm going to get Vic on the phone, and I'll call you back. Keep your phone handy."

Luke slapped the cell-phone down with such force that he shook the bedside table, as Katherine stared at him with wide-eyes.

"Luke, what the _heck_ is going on?"

"It's Marcus Kat - he's been abducted."


	13. Rational

Michelangelo had the sensation of being in the middle of a three ring circus, which had just happened to take up residence under the streets of New York City. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet as he'd been sitting in the middle of the living area for the last couple of hours, simply watching what was going on around him. Greg was at a table behind him on his laptop, alternating with being on the phone at the same time. Luke had spent most of the morning either on the phone himself, or inside the Lab with Donatello.

The orange-masked turtle knew that his brother was working extremely hard under a serious amount of mounting pressure to produce results, and had purposefully kept his own distance from the Lab. Even so, the frequency with which Luke kept returning to the Lab was starting to make him wonder what was going on in there. Leonardo and Raphael had been dealing with helplessness in their own ways, and neither had spent very much time out in the open where Michelangelo had been waiting, feeling like he'd shut down as the rest of the world moved on without him.

Luke was pacing behind the couch again, wrapped up in another conversation with Victoria.

"Three days isn't going to cut it Vic, we have to do better than that!...Okay, listen, I need you to bottom-line it for them. Find out exactly how much money they want, and tell them that we'll double it if they get the paperwork processed in the next twelve hours!...I know you're doing everything you can, and I'm not trying to put extra pressure on you. We just can't afford to wait _days_...Yeah, please call me back."

Luke hung up the phone with a shaky sigh, and collapsed into an armchair across from Michelangelo. The turtle's blue eyes met him imploringly, conveying the questions that he was holding back from asking out loud.

"She's in overdrive Mikey. Every contact she has through the Consulate, she's utilizing every weapon in her arsenal. Why does it have to be this hard?"

"Are you trying to bribe somebody to get into the country Doc?"

"That's what it's coming down to. The Congo is one of the hardest countries on the planet to get into. Getting approved for a travel visa is a nightmarish process, and there are high fees assessed on top of it. The prospect of getting it done in less than 24 hours, people are telling Victoria that it's impossible. But money opens a lot of doors, especially when you're dealing with an unstable government."

"What would happen if you just showed up?"

Luke's darker blue eyes met his a little incredulously. "You _do_ want to see us again sometime this decade, don't you? We have to enter the country legally, there's too much of a military presence for us to sneak our way in."

The man threw a glance over his shoulder, in the direction of the Lab. "That's enough rest for me. I've got to go check on your brother."

"Hold up Doc, what's going on with you two? Why do you keep having to pop in on him?"

Luke shook his head. "I'm keeping up with his progress, and trying to rationalize everything with him at the same time."

"Rationalize what?" Michelangelo asked with a serious edge.

"You know your brother Mike. He's convinced the technology is going to need his hand inside the country."

"He's already talking about going with you?" the orange-masked turtle asked a little more quietly, as if the same thing hadn't already been running through his mind.

"It's a bad idea on so many levels." Luke sighed "I'm trying to nip it in the bud now, before things get out of control on me."

"You think it'd be that bad?"

"Oh Mike, you can't be thinking along that line too!" Luke sounded exasperated now as well as exhausted.

"It was just a question Doc."

"Don't even think it." Luke said sharply, as he turned for the Lab.

Michelangelo followed him this time, surprised to find out how many projects Donatello had going on at once. The purple-banded turtle had three different cell-phones on the table in front of him, in various stages of being upgraded. Donny glanced up from his magnifier when he heard the two of them come inside.

"Have you heard anything else yet Doc?"

"We haven't gained any ground Donny, still trying to get our foot in the door. How are these coming?"

"Not as quickly as I'd like, but at least I have the experience of already setting up Marc and April's phones."

"Where do you stand on the scanner?" Luke asked a little more tensely.

"I told you, that's the complicated part." Donatello's frustration was evident.

Michelangelo shifted his weight a little nervously, as he inserted himself into the conversation. "What's complicated Donny? You can still trace Marc with your location software, can't you?"

"The signal strength of his implant won't carry this far Mikey. The scanner has to be within a reasonable range of the transmitter to track his beacon. The thing is..." Here he hesitated for a beat, giving Luke a pointed look. "The thing is that the satellite tie-in is more complex when it comes to the scanner, more difficult than say, bouncing phone signals off of it. It brings an entirely different equation into play, that's going to require a lot of physical adjustments to get it running through Marc's signal. I'm not going to be able to accomplish it from here Luke, I need to _be_ there!"

"There's a way Donny, you simply haven't found it yet." Luke said stubbornly.

"Doc, we don't have time for this! Every hour that passes, we're getting further behind! It's taking long enough just to get the phones in working order. I'm confident that I can plow through the issues with the scanner, but the idea of doing it via conference call? C'mon Luke, that's crazy! You need to stop trying to reason with me, and see the situation for what it really is. Our best hope for getting him back is through that implanted beacon, and if we can't track it, then it's pretty darn useless!"

"How are we supposed to do this Donny? How do you expect us to spirit you into the country unseen? That airport in Mbandaka was taken over by rebels in April, and the military still has increased troops stationed there from re-gaining control it! Have you found some way to make yourself completely invisible?"

"We're actually prepared for that kind of situation," Greg announced from behind them, effectively startling everyone at once. "I told you that I conscripted further customization on the Gulfstream."

"Greg, why are you _encouraging_ this?" Luke demanded.

"We work better as a team Luke," he answered coolly. "You know we're going to run into technical issues in the rainforest. What are we supposed to do without someone to fix them?"

"Hold on, wait a second," Mike cut in. "If Donny's going,_ I'm _going!"

"No one said Donny was going." Luke seethed.

"I'm flying the plane," Greg reminded him. "Not that I'm going to hold that over your head, but we need to cut the crap right now, okay? Yes, it's ridiculous. But it was also ridiculous when all four of them took off after Vale's guys to save _you_! Can we skip this whole part where we fight them on coming because it's a huge risk, and move on to the reality that we need them?"

"Them?" Luke repeated. "You're suggesting that we attempt to get all four of them past the army, past the check-points, through one of the highest levels of security that we've ever encountered?"

"It can be done Luke, and if anybody can figure it out, it's the guys in this room," Greg said with a meaningful look at Donatello. "Leo and Raph are on the same page as these two, no one wants to be left behind. If they're brave enough to face it, I say we ought to be friends enough to allow them to make that choice for themselves."

Luke sank into a desk chair with a mighty huff. "Well if everyone's already decided, what's the point in me talking at all?"

Leonardo and Raphael were waiting in the living area when Michelangelo, Luke and Greg exited the Lab, and the doctor threw a scowl in their direction. "Thanks for telling me what you were thinking guys, I really appreciate it."

"Doc, he's our friend too," Raphael shot in return. "What gives anyone the right to tell us what we can or can't do?"

"What he_ means _to say is, we're all in this together," Leonardo said smoothly. "We've never let the threat of discovery stop us before, and this is no different."

"Actually, it's very different Leonardo," Luke argued, though it was certainly pointless. "We're talking about another _continent_! Why is this so difficult for you to understand?"

"See if _you_ understand the words coming out our mouths Doc. We're coming with you," Raphael pronounced emphatically.

* * *

Luke had lapsed into silence, even if he was still fuming on the inside. His conversations with Tim and Brandon had fared no better; it seemed there was an entire conspiracy against him. He heard the reason in Donatello's argument, but even that couldn't get him to begrudgingly agree with them. All that was left to do was for him to accept it, because he was in no position to stop anyone.

Michelangelo seemed to rouse back to life, as the prospect of having something to do other than sit on his shell energized him for the first time that day. The girls had been on the surface for hours running errands in relation to the trip, and in the meantime no one had even had anything decent to eat all day.

Michelangelo was remedying that situation in the kitchen now, as Luke watched blankly from the table.

"C'mon Doc, I know at least part of you wants us to be there."

"What don't you get about this?" Luke demanded. "I'm only trying to keep you alive!"

"And _we're_ only thinking of protecting you guys Doc, that and kicking some natives all the way into next week if we have to."

"I only hope you get the chance Mikey," the man said morosely. "This is a long shot, any way you look at it. I'm-"

Luke cut himself off, as his phone suddenly vibrated under his hand. _Victoria_!

He snapped it open hurriedly. "Give me good news, please? I really need some."

"I have news, whether it's good or not is your call. I made contact with a higher up at the Embassy through another of my colleagues, and I delivered your proposition to him. He's upped the ante on you - triple the fees, and he'll make the paperwork go through in the next five hours, provided that all of you get the yellow fever vaccination."

"Tell him he has a deal Victoria."


	14. Departure

The new caravan of armed rebels had been steadily moving farther east toward what Rebecca had guessed was the Kivu region, based on the physical direction they were traveling. They had spent most of the day riding in silence based on orders, not by their own choice. Marcus' mind was a racing torrent of activity that he couldn't shut off, and nerves that wouldn't be completely contained. The man was striving to keep his composure, and to regulate his breathing at a normal rate. Marcus lived with a couple of different triggers that made the ever present asthma symptoms worse - and unusual amounts of emotional stress was one of them.

Bitter frustration increased in intensity as they were driven deeper into the forested region, which Rebecca had told him served as the base of operations for many of the armed militias and resistance to the new government order. He was comforted that she was at least in the same vehicle, that he knew she was all right- but at the same time, he was dying to ask questions. Marcus felt as though he was almost entirely in the dark, which somehow made the discouragement worse.

The doctor panned a bleak gaze over the landscape surrounding them, which now seemed so much more threatening than even 24 hours prior. He was tired of listening to the other men conversing with each other, and doing everything in his power to shut their annoying voices out. _They're like insects. I wish they were just as easy to squash. _That miserable thought only led into another weary one, loathing the _real _insects that had been trying to eat him alive for half the day.

Marcus fought the urge to feel sorry for himself, even as he pondered what he considered to be his role as the weakest link in his strange extended family, at least as far he was physically concerned. The regret had flitted through his head several times that day; and now once more as his mind wandered, trying to envision how this adventure would end. None of the scenarios he was picturing were turning out well.

Despite his best efforts to stay calm, the consistent flow of anxiety was affecting nerves, causing muscles in his windpipe to involuntarily contract in ways that only made him more nervous. The usual mental picture he would have focused on didn't help in this case, but only served to create more regret. He tried to command the tightening muscles to relax, and fought to take a couple of good deep breaths.

_You had to be the hero Sloan; you had to do things your way. You met opposition at every step, and crashed through like a bull in a china shop. Now you get to prove to everyone else that they were right all along._

The fleeting image of April's green eyes ran through his mind as he slumped down further in the seat, and fidgeted with wrists that were still bound in front of him. _She was the only one who _really_ encouraged me to do this. I wish I'd had time, I wish..._The thought trailed off as his throat constricted further, and the sensation continued into his chest this time.

His struggle had become suddenly visible to Rebecca, who sat up further on the other side of him. "Marcus, are you having trouble breathing? Are you all right?"

A small head-shake followed the characteristic wheezing sound that escaped his chest. The young woman was instantly alarmed, and called out something frantically in the mens' cursed language.

Nanji leaned over from behind their seat, feeling around in Marcus' pocket for the inhaler he expected the man to have. Through their close contact the last few days, he must have seen Marcus use it once, and had a pretty good idea of what needed to happen right now. With some obvious difficulty, Nanji maneuvered the inhaler from behind the man, and managed to get it into his mouth.

When Marcus motioned with his head, Nanji received the message to repeat the same blast for him a second time, and then held back uncertainly to see what would happen. Wheezing breath regulated a bit; however imperfect it remained, his airway was open, and that was the most important thing. The urge to say 'thank you' was so strong that Marcus actually bit his tongue to prevent the words from coming out.

On the seat beside him, Rebecca craned her neck a little painfully so she could cast a glare at Nanji behind them. Rebecca snapped something fiercely at the man, which Marc only wished he could understand. At Nanji's indifferent tone, Marcus felt himself getting exasperated. Getting kidnapped was irritating enough, without being clueless about half of what was going on around him.

Their voices both increased in intensity, and Marcus shuddered uncomfortably on the seat at the dark look that one of other men beside Nanji was giving Rebecca. The native had been fingering his weapon, and now struck the barrel across Rebecca's cheek so that it snapped her neck forward.

The African uttered a terse command of his own, and waved the barrell in what seemed an extremely threatening manner. The young woman's shoulders trembled somewhat, but she made no reply this time.

"Rebe-" Marcus started, before a firm shake of her own head warned him to be quiet._ Okay, so talking is still technically off limits._

He mutely studied the bleeding gash from where he sat, and wished that he had a gun of his own. In that moment, he might have actually been able to use it.

* * *

The day in the United States had flown by faster than anyone could comprehend. Every single person had been contributing in some part to the effort of getting them ready to leave as quickly as possible, especially after the men had to put their own focus on travel documentation and racing to get the necessary immunization so they'd be allowed to enter the Congo.

Victoria's contact was helping them to enter the country itself, but Greg's own clout with the FBI was securing a different sort of help that they required. The man was currently in the process of running through pre-flight checks, and double-checking that all the proper paper-work was in order. Everything had to be accessible to the authorities in both Belgium and Mbandaka - they couldn't afford to get detained for a lengthy period of time.

The turtles were already onboard the Gulfstream, having been smuggled into the private air-strip inside their own van. The other men besides Greg were still outside by the hangar, taking a couple more minutes to make their own goodbyes. Luke swallowed back emotion as he handed Reina back to Katherine, and exchanged a torn glance with his wife.

"It's the right thing Luke," she said stoically. "You're not letting me down - he's family too. You guys have a better shot of finding him than anyone else does. Stop looking at me like you're not going to see us again, and call me when you can." Her tone didn't falter until she got to the last couple of words, and that was when Brandon held out his arms at her side.

"Let me have my niece."

Katherine put the baby in her brother's hands, and fell into Luke's fierce embrace. "I wish I was going with you," she said into his ear before she could stop herself.

He rested his forehead against hers' momentarily. "I wish _none_ of us had to go, but we do. You know I'll call as often as I can, let you know of our progress."

Then the man threw another glance at Jenna and Karina, and nodded his head back at Katherine. "I know I can count on you to be there for Kat and Reina ladies."

Jenna shook her head unhappily, still looking sore over losing her own battle. No amount of cajoling on her part was going to get her on that plane with the others.

Tim was saying goodbye to Victoria and Calley on the other side of them.

"Chances are you'll still run into some kind of trouble or delays when you get there Tim - you have to be prepared for it," Victoria warned him. "Stay on your guard everywhere you go, especially in and around the cities. I've already heard so many things today that..." She didn't finish the statement, breaking off with a soft sigh. "But I know you can do this."

Tim hugged his daughter firmly one last time, and smiled encouragingly. "Keep your head up Calley, and we'll be back before you know it."

As he turned from both women to join the others, Brandon was just handing Reina over to Karina. "Be good sis," he told her with a wink.

"Watch your back Brandon...and keep an eye on our guys, will you?" she finished a little pleadingly.

He nodded as he cast an arm around her shoulder. "Your husband's not one for letting anybody cramp his style Kari, but I'll do the best I can."

When everyone was settled inside the jet, Greg summoned Donatello to come up to the cockpit with him.

"You wouldn't mind getting somewhat of a crash course while we're at this, would you?" Greg asked the turtle.

"As long as it doesn't require actually crashing, and you're not leaving me alone at the controls. You're not going to be able to fly straight through completely, are you?" Donatello clarified, as he stared a little wide-eyed at the 14-inch crystal monitor displays in front of him.

"No, you don't want me flying this thing for the next 22 hours without any sleep. My plan was to at least get us to Belgium, that's where we'll refuel. There's another air-field off the beaten path, and I'll have to rest there for a couple of hours at least before the second leg of the trip. I should have started teaching you this months ago. Not having a co-pilot is only going to slow us down further."

"I guess better late than never Heff. Maybe I could end up doing you some good on the way home," he finished optimistically.

"Atta boy Donny, way to look ahead. I only have a few more last minute things to finish, then I can communicate with the Tower, and we'll be on our way." Greg handed another pair of earphones to the turtle. "Nervous?" he asked with a half-grin.

"Yeah, a little," the purple-masked turtle admitted. "We've done our fair share of _flying _Heff, just not thousands of feet off the ground. Slow down, and let me watch what you're doing here," he requested.

Greg ran down the last couple of processes with him, repeating the sections a couple of times as Donatello started acclimating himself with the instruments for the first time. The turtle slipped on his own earphones to listen to the radio traffic, stomach lurching somewhat with the nerves of what was about to happen. Greg gave Donatello a thumbs up, and he nodded in return.

"Tower, this is Gulfstream Eight Two Niner, requesting permission to take off," Greg announced over the frequency.

"Roger Gulfstream, you are clear for take-off on runway 2. You hurry back Heffernan - don't make me come out there after you."

Greg chuckled somewhat as he started taxing into position. "Copy that Tower. You just keep your feet planted on the ground where they belong."

The purple-masked turtle's knuckles unconsciously grasped part of the seat as Greg increased the throttle, and in the momentary silence that followed leaving the tarmac, Donatello shot the man a lop-sided smile.

"Why are we stopping?" he cracked.

"Trust me Donny, you'll _know_ if we're stopping."


	15. The Difference

Michelangelo knew a lot about adrenaline rushes - sometimes it felt like he lived half of his life inside one. Taking off in the jet had been an entirely new kick that the orange-masked turtle had thoroughly enjoyed. It still read in every line of his body as he was glued to the window of the plane, watching the retreating city lights. A few minutes had already passed, when he finally turned to face Brandon. "I'm sorry dude, do you wanna see?"

"No, that's okay, I've already seen it," the man answered a little too quickly.

That was when Michelangelo noticed how tightly the human's fingers were gripping the armrests of the leather seat. "Do you have a problem with flying Bran?"

"No. I have a problem with_ falling_," he quipped, lessening his grip however slightly. "I'm okay, it's just the taking off and the landing...And in-between, I don't think about how high up we are."

Raphael twisted in the seat across from them to flash Brandon a grin. "We'll try not to remind you for the next day or so."

"But it'll be broken up a little, right?" Leonardo suggested hopefully for Brandon. "Greg said we had to stop over in Europe."

"Brussels," Timothy filled in. "Straight on from there to Mbandaka, that's where April is. Sheesh, I can't even imagine what she's going through on her own over there."

No one said anything for a few seconds, as the seriousness of the situation washed back over them again, creating a perfect lull for an announcement from the cockpit.

"Good evening Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking-"

"How long do you think he'd been waiting to say that?" Raphael snickered under his breath.

"We're closing in on our cruising altitude of 41,000 feet, traveling around 488 knots-"

"What the shell is a knot anyway?" Raphael interrupted for a second time. "Why do there have to be technical words for everything?"

"Would you can it? I'm trying to listen," Leonardo hissed at him.

"Hey Fearless, maybe if you go visit the cockpit, he'll give you some little wings of your own." Raphael snorted, and barely had time to avoid the blue-masked turtle's elbow before it drove into his side.

Greg's voice continued, completely oblivious to either of them. "...We've got about an eight hour flight ahead of us, which should put us into Belgium sometime around 12:30 PM Central European Summer Time. There won't be much to see across the eastern seaboard for the next four hours or so, but we'll be running back into the sunrise before we touch down in Europe. You're free to move about the cabin, or you can just sit back, keep your feet_ off _the seats, and try to get some rest at some point. That is all."

Michelangelo unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned around to look over his shoulder at Luke, who was sitting alone behind them. The man hadn't so much as made a peep for over half an hour. "You alive back there Doc?" the turtle asked impishly, trying to get a smile out of him. "Don't tell me _you're_ afraid of flying."

When the words left him, the thought immediately registered that it might not have been the most sensitive thing he could have said to the doctor, considering Luke's history. Michelangelo stumbled quickly to recover. "Not that you...I...uh...what I meant was..."

"Mike, I know what you meant," Luke replied evenly. "It does sort of feel like there's some curse following this continent, but that's not what I was thinking about right this second. I'm feeling a little guilty I guess. I know I shouldn't, but it's harder to leave now. There's this weight of responsibility on my shoulders, that feels stronger than anything I've ever dealt with. My heart says to chase, and finding Marc is all I want to do. But I still feel guilty for leaving Reina."

"She's got all the girls Doc, you know she'll be taken care of," Michelangelo offered, as Luke unbuckled from his seatbelt, and shifted into a more comfortable position.

Michelangelo's own hand shifted absent-mindedly with a lever on the side of his seat as he tried to come up with something better to say to Luke, and he was startled when the chair spun a couple of inches. "Hey! This thing swivels!" he chirped triumphantly, as he got it turned around completely so that he was facing Luke.

The doctor smiled at him in spite of himself. "There's a lot of things to discover about this jet Mikey. She was a very good investment for us."

"Have ya'll decided what to name her?" Michelangelo asked, as he flipped the lever on Brandon's seat to get him turned around with them.

Luke shrugged. "We've tossed around a couple of things, but nothing fit yet. Maybe before this trip is over, we'll actually have something concrete."

Luke was about to say something else, when his cell-phone vibrating cut him off. "It's April - hang on guys."

He shifted the phone to his ear before answering it. "Hey...Yeah, we're in the air. We've got all of our documentation in order...Oh, for the love of...No, we knew it wouldn't last. You did what you had to April, better they find out from you, than from the media...Uh huh...Well, it might be awkward, but I'm sure they'll appreciate you letting them know...No, of course, we can talk later. Make the phone call, okay?"

* * *

After April hung up with Luke, she exhaled sharply as she considered the number on the paper in front of her. The media was running with the story of the abduction, and it would be breaking in minutes, with her only _watching_. It seemed only appropriate to alert Rebecca's family in Kansas to the situation, before they had to hear about it from the TV.

She'd taken the time to contact Marcus' father minutes ago, a task she'd put off for as long as she could. April didn't relish the idea of telling complete strangers that a member of their family was missing either, but her relatives had a right to hear it before the rest of the world did. Without taking any more time to think about it, she punched in the numbers off the sheet, and waited as it started to ring.

An older man's voice greeted her on the third ring, and April felt suddenly more nervous.

"Is this Mr. Tompkins?" she asked after a couple of seconds got away from her.

"This is Bruce. What can I do for you?"

"Sir, you don't know me, but my name is April, and I'm calling on behalf of your granddaughter. I'm sure you know that Rebecca was assigned to my husband as a translator for his trip to Africa, and I actually came along too..." _Stop rambling and get on with it._

There was only tolerant silence on his end, so April continued somewhat haltingly.

"I'm sorry to tell you that Rebecca is missing. She was taken along with my husband out in the rainforest, by what appeared to be a rebel band. I wish I had some more information for you, but I really don't know anything else right now. Efforts are underway to find them, but I thought you needed to know before any more time had passed."

"Ma'am, my grandaughter is already dead," the man said bluntly.

"No, we haven't heard anything to support that," April said quickly. "We're trying to hold onto hope that they can still be found."

"No, I'm telling _you_, Rebecca died to me two years ago over all this foolishness. If the jungle she loves so much wants her, then it's none of my concern."

April sat in stunned silence for a couple of beats. "You don't mean that," she finally replied.

"But I honestly do," he answered stiffly. "If you'll excuse me Ma'am, I'd rather get off the phone."

"Your flesh and blood is missing, and you're telling me you don't even care?"

"Rebecca makes her own choices, and lives her own life. I'm completely out of it, and the rest of the family feels the same way. Nothing was ever going to convince her that she was wrong. Even now, she's probably more happy getting her chance to die for those _precious_ people, than she could allow herself to be at home. Goodbye Ma'am."

"But how can you possibly..." April persisted stubbornly, but the click on the other end signified that the man had indeed hung up.

She shook her head in amazement, unexpected tears filling her eyes. Her grandparents' number was the only contact information that Rebecca had left behind. A strong surge of sympathy and curiosity filled her over the young woman, now more than ever. For all she knew, there wasn't another soul in the world that would even be concerned for Rebecca. A note of anger followed behind it, as she set the phone down in frustration. The intensely shy persona now seemed like a cover-up for something much deeper.

With a trembling sigh, April shut off her light, not that it did any good. It was a little after 4:30 in the morning in Mbandaka, but she hadn't slept a wink. She tried laying back down regardless, pure grief threatening to overwhelm her as she rested her head. Fear for the gentle-hearted man she loved was devouring her from the inside out, as she closed her eyes against further tears.

She'd been trying to hold on to some semblance of hope herself, but it was difficult to do. April had barely said more than ten words to anyone at a time since she'd first gotten the call from Kirkland, except in trying to find out details about the trackers who were trying to find the missing pair in the wilderness.

April pounded her fist on the mattress beside her in an outpouring of anxious energy. She was both relieved that the others were coming, and scared to death at the same time. They were more equipped to find Marcus than anyone else on the planet, via the implanted homing chip that the human bore. The implants had started off as an experimental process on Donatello's part with his brothers and himself, but eventually progressed to being granted to the rest of the members of the extended "family" with their consent. If there was any chance of Marcus and Rebecca being recovered, April knew it would be through that beacon.

The red-head shifted to her other side uncomfortably, not bothering to try and stem the rising tears. Quiet sobs wracked her chest once more, that actually felt physically painful as they traveled through her. She struggled to steel her emotions after a couple of minutes longer.

_He's so much stronger than he gives himself credit for. He can hold out for help, I know he can. Just hold on Marcus._


	16. False Hope

The rebels' convoy had carried long into the evening, much farther after dark than their original caravan ever had. Marcus had at first assumed that their captors were only trying to gain more ground on possible pursuers, but the ironic thought eventually occurred to him that these men had less to fear from the rainforest than their other team had. These men _were_ the threat, and were comfortably passing deeper and deeper into their own territory.

Marcus could still keep track of the passage of time with his watch, grateful for the small comfort that it afforded. It was close to 3:30 in the morning when the vehicles finally came to a stop for the first time in hours, and a crude version of a camp was swiftly erected. The doctor's feet hardly touched the ground as two men escorted him to the center of the ring, and roughly deposited him on his knees.

His head jerked around immediately to see what was going on with Rebecca, but he didn't have to look far. The young woman was being toted by none other than Nanji himself, her disgust at having his arm around her shoulder reading strongly in her expression. Marcus had been concerned that they would separate the two of them at some point, but it didn't seem to be happening yet.

* * *

As Marcus and Rebecca tried to settle down on the hard ground, Ajamu gazed at the two of them appraisingly, while his right hand man crossed his arms.

"_Are you certain it is wise to allow_?" the man wanted to know. "_They can speak freely to each other, and none of us can know what they are saying_."

"_What are you worried about Jaman, that they are plotting against us_?" Ajamu laughed. "_The man is as helpless as an infant, he cannot even begin to resist us. He is the perfect one for this job; he will be moved with enough pity to treat the workers to the best of his ability, and he will not be strong enough to attempt to run. The doctor contains the best possible mix of strength and weakness, to work to our own advantage. I could not have picked someone better myself."_

_"But what about the woman? Nanji says she knows this region. Is not possible that she knows _too_ much?" _Jaman persisted.

"_She is a necessary evil, and in no more of a position to defend herself than he. I have known my share of female warriors in my day - and she is not one of them. It makes no sense for us to keep them apart. They are easier to keep an eye on together, and we need her to be able to speak for him_." Ajamu's tone indicated that he wasn't pleased with Jaman's line of questioning, without the scarred man being forced to voice it out loud.

"_Your judgement is wise Ajamu - I mean not to question you. I ask only for the sake of wondering, and I now see that you know what you are doing_."

Ajamu smiled a little more easily. "_Take the first hours' watch, but then get some sleep. We will move in five hours."_

* * *

Both Marcus and Rebecca had remained silent as they tried to get to sleep, neither wanting to risk trying to talk and angering their captors. Their wrists had been released at least, but the ever present guns and the heavy breathing of the men surrounding them left no true room for them to relax. Marcus checked his watch periodically, trying not to make a big show about it. The last thing he wanted was for someone with happy hands to swipe it from him.

As he ran a finger over the smooth facing of the timepiece, he thought about Donatello, and the work of his hands that had gone into making it for him. It would be shameful for one of these murderous thieves to get their hands on it. The thought of the purple-masked turtle led him into wondering what the others would do when word reached them. There was no telling how long it would take the rest of their original team to find Kirkland's body, and even then, they would have no idea what had happened to them.

He partially regretted leaving his cell-phone on the man now. _A lot of good it will be doing anyone_, he thought a little bitterly. But Nanji hadn't driven them a tremendous distance from the base-camp on the brink of hill-country, and the others knew that the four of them were leaving together. When they found Ryan dead, they would have to assume that something had happened to the rest of them. They would have no knowledge of Nanji's betrayal, but it still sparked some hope in Marc's mind that the team could be looking for them.

There had been another nagging thought in the back of his mind, circling around the question of whether or not his own friends would be coming after him. If he put himself in their shoes, he realized that he wouldn't want to sit back and wait anymore than they probably would be willing to. But here in the middle of nowhere, inside one of the most dangerous places on the planet, he almost hoped that they _wouldn't _come. The thought of his implant crossed his mind again, and he silently considered whether or not he could physically remove the beacon from his own arm. It was a somewhat gruesome thought, and it was interrupted by the soft sound of Rebecca gasping beside him.

Marcus rolled over slightly on his side to look at the young woman, and realized that she was quietly crying. With a somewhat nervous glance at their fence of captors, he then reached for her shoulder.

"Becky, don't cry," he whispered, feeling very much like a father. He was _old_ enough to be her father anyway.

Marcus tensely rested a hand on the back of her head, and whispered a second time. "They want us for something, which means they need us alive. There's still a chance that we could get out of this."

She turned her head to face him, tear stains hardly visible even up close. "Marc, I feel like this is my fault. I'm the connection to Nanji. If I hadn't been here...I don't know. I just feel like things would have been different."

"Don't say that," he negated. "And try not to lose all hope, if you can manage it."

"I'm sorry, but the chances of us being found..." She didn't finish, as if she'd decided against speaking the words out loud.

Marcus allowed silence to hover over them for a couple of minutes, as he mulled over how much he should tell her. She met his dark-eyed gaze after awhile, sensing the man's inner struggle as he grasped for the right words.

Her tears were suddenly forgotten, as curiosity rose inside her. "What Marc? What are you thinking?"

"I...I don't want to give you false hope," he said honestly.

"Marc, I'd rather have false hope than none. It'll make the next few days easier to bear, even if I'm just fooling myself."

He exhaled sharply and broke eye contact with her, focusing on the tree canopy above them. "There's more to my life than you know about. Things I haven't told you about...family."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me either. But what about your family gives you encouragement all the way out here?"

"Everything I've told you about my life in New York is true. I'm a specialist, I work out of St. Joseph's...and I married April about six months ago. But there's more to it than that. The hospital is my job, but the family is my _life_, and it's a very unusual group."

"They live in the city too?"

Marcus nodded his head. "Some of them have never lived anywhere else. Truthfully, I'm not biologically related to any of them; most of us aren't. We're an assortment of friends, that are closer than any real family I've ever had."

He hesitated for another beat, before turning completely to face her better. "We exist under odd circumstances. My friends' lives are often threatened, and their bodies at risk because of their line of work. My best friend and I are kind of a support team for them. _That's _the reason the field work out here in the rainforest hasn't been a huge adjustment. I've been doing it for years Becky."

Now the young woman was sitting up further as well. "What line of work are they in?" She seemed surprised by the chuckle that escaped him.

"It's kind of hard to explain what it is they do. It sounds like something straight out of fiction."

"Some people say the truth_ is _stranger than fiction. You've got me interested, you can't leave me in the dark."

The way she perked up alone made Marcus decided to go on. "They're modern day warriors - the epitome of everything that I'm _not_. They're invisible. They don't even exist as far as the world knows, and that's how it has to be. They make an independent effort into cutting down the crime that impacts New York City. They've been doing it for years in secret."

"Are you serious right now?"

"I couldn't be more serious. They're living among us, but not_ with _us, if that makes any sense."

"It doesn't really, but it makes me want to hear more. When you say that they're warriors..."

"I'm talking true-blooded, skilled fighters Rebecca, none of this junk with guns. They hate the things."

"I can't say I'm fond of them myself," she said wryly. "But I do have to ask something again, going back to the issue of false hope. Are these friends the reason you believe that we could still get out of this? You _did_ say they're back in New York, right?"

"Yeah, but here's the thing," Marcus said more quietly, as if someone else would understand. "They're a pretty stubborn bunch, real loyal and all that. When they get wind of what's happened, my gut says that they'll try coming after me. And there's more."

"What more?"

"I carry a beacon, an implanted device that emits a signal that their technology can track."

Another quiet gasp escaped the young woman. "Whoa. Do you really think they'd come all the way here?"

"They have to figure they've got a better shot of finding me than anyone else does. Part of it scares me to death, because I don't want anything to happen to them. The other part hopes that they _will _come Rebecca, that they'll get us out of this. There's definitely no one better suited for the task...but they haven't dealt with these conditions before either."

"The rainforest can be a treacherous place, it's hard to-"

Before she could finish, someone nudged her sharply in the back from behind, giving her a sharp command in his tongue.

Rebecca rolled her eyes in the darkness as she shrugged at Marcus, conveying her intense irritation with soft grunt. "We have to be quiet."

Marcus settled his head down, turning his gaze toward the trees again. Maybe he would tell her more about them later - and maybe not. For right now, he felt as if he'd done the right thing for her.


	17. Confiscated

Luke's fists were clenched tightly on the table in front of him, where he'd been sitting for the last hour and a half. All the men had been detained and questioned separately upon arrival in Mbandaka. As irritating as the process was, he was also so anxious that his heart was racing almost non-stop. He knew that the jet was being subjected to a search while all this was going on, and he only hoped that Greg's "enhancements" worked as well as he'd promised they would.

They'd straightened their story out in advance, though they weren't bothering to lie about their purpose in entering the country. Their intentions were still coming into question by the local authorities, despite the fact that the proper papers of safe passage had already been presented from the Embassy. Without a real balance and checks system in place, the military powers on the strip were still free to hold them here as long as they wished.

Luke jerked upright in the hard-backed chair when the door opened again, and his interrogator re-entered. The African was carrying something in his hand, an object that made the doctor swallow inwardly when he placed it on the table in front of him.

"What can you tell me about this machine Doctor?" The man's accent was thick, but his English was better than some Americans Luke knew.

Luke cursed himself silently for leaving the scanner inside of his own bag; of course they were going through all of their belongings. Donatello still had _his_ version of the device on his person, and now the doctor was wishing he'd left his with the turtle for safe-keeping too. "It's next generation technology," he explained evenly. "A medical prototype that's still in the first phase of being patented."

"What does it do Doctor?"

"It's a machine specifically geared for gathering and storing vast amounts of medical data," Luke answered, wishing the man would take his hands off of it.

"And why is it, that we could not get it turn on?" the man pressed.

_Brother, here we go_. "It's loaded with security features, because of the sensitive nature of information it holds. You shouldn't be concerned about it though, it's only storing patient records." Luke was being purposefully vague, while also trying to make it sound completely uninteresting to the man.

The soldier stared at him passively for a few seconds longer, still resting one hand protectively on top of the device. "We've received word that you have clearance to continue from here, but we do not take kindly to such unfamiliar machines entering our borders. You will be reunited with the other men you traveled with shortly, but I'm afraid this machine must remain in our possession, until such a time as we can perform our own tests."

"You can't do that!" Luke was suddenly on his feet, both hands stretched out on the table in front of him. "We're not breaking any rules or laws. I _need_ that device to aid our efforts, or I wouldn't have bothered bringing it!"

"Dr. Barrows, I can do as I see fit, and there is no one present to oppose me. Would you prefer that I hold you in detention, along with your device?"

Luke shut his mouth, but his shoulders were still trembling with anger. _Easy Barrows, don't screw yourself here. Donny's still got _his. Though Luke knew the men wouldn't be able to crack even the first level of Donatello's encryption on the device, he still hated the thought of it being lost to them. _I suppose I should just let it be chalked up to a loss, before I have to lose anything else._

"When do I see the others?" Luke asked through clenched teeth.

"Come with me Dr. Barrows. The transport you arranged is waiting for you, and our sweep of your plane is nearly complete. If everything is in order, you will be free to continue on your way shortly. Welcome to Mbandaka," the soldier finished in a rather monotonous tone.

* * *

All the men were escorted back to the tarmac, relieved to see one another again in that relatively short amount of time. They could have been detained much longer, and every one of them knew it. All four watched in silence as a number of soldiers descended from the jet, each trying to pick up on some signal that they'd seen anything unusual on board. The soldiers conversed openly in their native tongue, trolling around the plane somewhat lazily a couple more times, before allowing them access to get near it again.

The military - issued truck they were paying a premium to use for the next 24 hours was sitting nearby as promised, and Tim trotted over to retrieve it while Greg and Brandon got back on the plane. Greg didn't even take the time to be annoyed by the mess that met them onboard, but went straight away to the control panel in the cockpit, while Brandon was watching from the door. With a few strokes, Greg released the locked-down doors that were seamlessly integrated in various locations with either the walls or floor of the cabin, virtually undetectable to someone who didn't already know that they were there.

None of the hatches were large enough to handle more than one turtle at a time, so all four brothers had been hiding separately throughout the jet. Raphael exhaled sharply as he crawled out of his own cramped position.

"Aw shell. I thought those boneheads would _never_leave. They sounded like a herd of elephants up in here - I wanted to bust somebody's head so bad."

"Which would explain why Heff left the remote release in _my _hands," Leonardo pointed out impishly, clapping his brother on the shell as he came up behind him.

"Easy Fearless, not all of us are as dainty as you," the red-masked turtle said ruefully, as he stretched out one leg at a time in front of him.

He had to back up a couple of paces a moment later, so that his youngest brother could pop up from underneath them. A giant grin was plastered on the orange-masked turtle's face even as he emerged.

"That was the coolest thing ever! I feel just like Han Solo hiding on the Falcon."

"Yeah, and y' look like a wookie." Raphael was already annoyed with the turtle's sunny disposition.

"That's far from accurate as far as physiology is concerned," Donatello announced as he stepped over to join them.

"We're not in Star Wars, and don't you shell-heads forget it," Raphael said crossly. "There's about nine zillion guys outside just waiting to jump on us - don't go getting all relaxed."

"I wouldn't have put it that way exactly, but he's right," Leonardo affirmed. "We're still in a tight spot here, so let's stay focused, and be prepared to move quickly. Brandon, what's it look like out there?"

The man's head was already ducked partially outside the craft. "We still have a couple hanging out in the vicinity. I'm going to need to find some way to...Oh wait. I don't know what he said, but Luke's got their attention. Quick guys, c'mere. Tim's got the truck as close as he could manage, and you're going to need to move fast while Doc's distracting them."

Not even bothering with any of the luggage, all four turtles filed into a line behind Brandon, who was still watching for the most opportune moment.

"Okay, go! Go now!" he whispered fiercely.

The turtles skipped the steps entirely, alighting directly to the tarmac below. While Brandon was attempting to watch every conceivable direction without hope of success, they slipped into the back of the truck without a sound, not even so much as stirring the heavy fabric that covered the frame of the back-end. Brandon let out a soft breath as Luke continued talking to the soldiers, who could barely understand a word of English. He'd have to ask the doctor how that conversation had gone later.

Then Brandon ducked back inside the jet to help Greg unload the rest of their gear that had been rifled through. They were forced to re-pack some things that had been completely overturned, and then started making trips back and forth, transferring supplies to the vehicle. The two men worked as quickly as they could, desperate to get off the occupied air strip as soon as possible.

Luke would probably have been more than willing to help, but he was still busy with the two soldiers on the other side of the plane, their laughter now echoing loudly across the tarmac.

"We're set Luke!" Brandon finally called to him.

When he didn't get an immediate response, the man jogged over to where they were standing, to find the two soldiers conversing excitedly over Luke's cell-phone.

"Okay guys, well, I have to go now," Luke told them, sounding unsure of how much they really understood.

When he waved at them, the one holding his phone relinquished it back to him, while the other performed what seemed to be an incredibly awkward move, which ended in the soldier half-crouching over the tarmac. Luke gave the man a thumbs' up as he backed away with Brandon, and chuckled at his friend's expression as they booked to get back to the waiting truck.

"What on earth _was_ that Luke? Some kind of ritual greeting dance?"

"Thriller," Luke replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He's not bad, he picked it up pretty quick."

"What were you doing with them?"

"They were watching a video. Michael Jackson really _was_ a world-wide phenomenon."

If Brandon laughed any harder, he might have actually split his side open.

* * *

Business as usual resumed inside the vehicle, and Luke slid over on the front seat so that he would be the closest to Timothy. "We still have a couple of check-points to get through, even after we get off the strip. They're going to want to see our papers, but this is very important Tim, are you listening? Do not open your windows for anyone, not even the real authorities. There are too many groups around here posing as the military. Victoria warned me about the number of car-jackings and muggings that can happen inside the cities, especially as far as foreigners are concerned. If they want to see the papers, you just have to hold them up against the window."

Timothy grinned, as if he were driving them through nothing more than a petting zoo. "It'd be pretty funny if they did try to car-jack us though, wouldn't it? We could teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget anytime soon. We'll get through this Luke. You gotta figure some of the hardest stuff is already behind us."

"No Tim, I sort of think it's just _starting_. Let's get outside the city so we can drop the guys off, and we can double-back around to meet April," Luke instructed.

In the back of the truck, the turtles were huddled behind supplies with Brandon, and taking every opportunity to peek out through the small holes that existed in the fabric covering. The orange-masked turtle was having the hardest time sitting still, eager ahead of all the others to get out into the trees where they could move.

"Mikey, you're making me nervous," Brandon complained. "It's already shaking enough without you vibrating the whole back-end too."

The turtle dropped into a cross-legged position on the floor, clasping both arms together in an effort to get his body under control. At the same time he caught Donatello's brown-eyed glance, and grinned openly at his brother, as if to remind him that he was still fidgeting on the _inside_.


	18. Hero

Over the course of the last 24 hours the rain had started, and hadn't let up for even a few minute's time. The progress of the rebels' convoy had already been moving at no more than 10 mph on the barely existent road, and now it was being slowed down even further by the mud and water. The erected canopies over the Jeeps kept a portion of the rain out, but the wind was driving it in the sides of the vehicles so that it was still soaking the passengers.

Marcus thought he gotten used to the consistent thunder overhead, until the loudest roll yet sounded like a bomb going off somewhere in the trees directly above them. He accidentally jerked so hard that he rammed the seat in front of him. The man sitting in it whirled around long enough to backhand him across the face, his knuckles striking so viciously it felt like they left impressions. Marcus flopped backwards against the seat with a sigh, and felt Rebecca's fingers lightly on his arm.

"Charming characters, aren't they? You all right?"

He nodded, and then shook his head immediately following it. "It's no big deal. All things considered, I feel pretty stupid."

"Why's that Marcus?"

He had to laugh. "I've seen and _heard_ of a lot worse. Honestly, these guys have been pretty mild so far, comparatively speaking."

"I don't have a clue what you mean."

In spite of the circumstances, he couldn't stop from smiling again. "I've had opportunities to see the handiwork of some very bad men. You wouldn't even believe some of it, unless you saw it with your own eyes. We still marvel that they've come out of it all in one piece."

"You're talking about your friends again, aren't you? The warriors."

"Yeah. Man, if they were here right now...These idiots wouldn't even know what hit them."

Rebecca smiled now too, as she seemed to be strangely comforted by the short stories he'd told her over the last couple of days. "You started to tell me more last night, before they shut us up," she said hopefully.

"Do you really want to hear this?"

"It's interesting, and it's something else to focus on besides all of this stupidity. Please?"

"All right," he agreed softly. "I was going to start at the beginning I guess, their beginning. It wasn't an easy one, none of their life has been. They were orphans. They didn't have anything or anyone before their um...their father found them. In all likelihood, they're not even biologically related, but he found them together, and they've always treated each other like brothers. Some things are stronger than genetics."

"But there's something I don't understand. You told me that they've lived their entire lives in secret. Why the separation - why the hiding?"

With the details Marcus _had _shared about the turtles, their physiology had yet to have come up. That part he kept judiciously to himself, at least for the time being. It wasn't even that he didn't trust the young woman. Even in the short time that he'd known Rebecca, she still didn't seem like the type that would serve as a threat to them. He held back only for the sake of the difficulty of an explanation. It was obvious that she enjoyed listening, and he felt better about keeping things as simple as possible.

"They just have a very unique existence," he finally told her. "Their father was a ninjutsu Master, he's the one who brought them up to be warriors. Their separation from the world is difficult, but it's the most effective way for them to live."

"Then...why do they bother to intervene inside criminal activity? If they choose to separate themselves in the other areas, why do they care about a plight they're not responsible for?"

Marcus gave her a pointed look. "I believe you can answer your own question Becky. You're not that different from them, in some ways. You don't have to be _here_ either, you choose to be. You knowingly walk into an overwhelming place, where the darkness is so prevalent, it hardly seems you can penetrate through it. But that doesn't stop you, does it? They're pretty much the same, their setting is just a lot more...urban. They have the ability to act, so they do, without any thought of payment or reward. They're real life heroes for the risks they take, and the sacrifices they make."

Marcus paused for a couple of seconds, rubbing water out of his eyes for the hundredth time that day. "I think you're a hero too Rebecca, I really do. You choose to face things that you don't have to deal with, and you put yourself in very real danger, all in the name of standing up for someone else."

Something like a chuckle escaped her. "I'm not a hero Marcus, I'm not _anything_. This is all I have...this work is all I know. I grew up in this country, inside a way of life that...Well, it makes going back to the United States hard. I don't have to tell you that things are different there, or how difficult it can be to find a place that fits. I've been trying to get permanent residency here in the DRC for years, so I wouldn't have to go back to the US unless I wanted to.

My parents have done groundbreaking work with some of these tribes - I can easily call them heroes. But not me Marcus, especially now."

"I think there are probably several people in this country that feel differently about you Rebecca."

The young woman cast the slightest of glances over her shoulder, catching Nanji's eye for a brief moment. "Yes Marcus...I can see exactly how much of an impact I've had on them. They love me so much, they'll probably sell me out to the highest bidder."

"Oh c'mon. He's one traitor, out of how many people you've ever helped?"

"That's the problem Dr. Sloan, it only takes one. One misguided person can ruin the lives of so many others."

The shift in conversation seemed to have cause Rebecca to settle into a more contemplative mood. Marcus had come to understand that she was pretty easy to talk to, until she shut down this way. He wasn't going to press the issue, so he quietly returned to ducking his head toward the middle of the Jeep, and trying to avoid as much of the rain as he could.

* * *

Against the men's better judgment, they had to allow Donatello to tag along with them back in Mbandaka. Donny required a somewhat stable environment to perform the adjustments on his scanner, and they were all going to be stuck in a holding pattern until the purple-masked turtle had it working. April had put on a good face for them, even if she was just as freaked out to find Donatello working from the back of the truck, which was covered by nothing more than the sturdy fabric. It kept out prying eyes, but it could hardly be considered secure.

It was growing closer to dark now, and as much as they wanted to stay with April, even the woman herself thought it was a better idea for them to return to the outskirts of the city, where the other three turtles were presently holed up. April was walking the men back outside and also taking a moment to say goodbye to Donatello in the back, when another vehicle pulled up alongside theirs'. Everyone stiffened at the same time, but when the passenger door came open, April exhaled softly.

"Ryan, what are you doing here? I know you have orders to be resting," she said somewhat reproachfully.

"I have been Mrs. Sloan, and it's about killing me," the gentleman replied. "I heard you got some help in from the States, and I wanted to see the boys for myself."

"How did you hear_ that_?" she gasped.

"Word gets around," he said simply, now taking in the sight of the four men appraisingly. "What is it that the four of you do?"

"I'm sorry, _who_ are you?" Brandon spoke up before any of the others could.

"Forgive me for being nosy gentlemen, I just have a vested concern in this missing pair. You see, I was a member of their team, there to help protect them. I was there when they were taken, and I couldn't do anything to stop it," Ryan answered.

"You're the one who called April." Luke realized, his eyes now traveling to Kirkland's bandaged shoulder.

"I did, before I was air-lifted out of one of those tiny villages. I don't know what your plan of action is men, but I've come to offer my assistance to you. I can take you to where they disappeared, and I can help guide you through these parts. I'm no self-proclaimed expert, but I've navigated wilderness like this most of my life, and I'm not a bad tracker either."

Without even glancing at each other, each of the faces in front of Ryan seemed to be mirroring the same expression.

"Thank you, we appreciate the offer," Timothy said smoothly. "I wish we could accept it, but we can't. The work we're going to do, we have to do it alone."

"Are you familiar with the dangers of this region? I don't want to make any assumptions, not knowing a thing about you." Ryan's gaze rested on each of them in turn.

"We'll be all right," Tim answered again. "Thank you for your concern, not just for us, but for Dr. Sloan and his translator. There is something we could use your help with, since you were there. You saw the men who took them, and the weapons that they carried?"

"They were professionals," Kirkland stated firmly. "It wasn't random - one of the locals betrayed the two of them. After he hit me, I didn't expect to wake up again. There was a spent bullet casing almost on top of me. I don't know if someone tried to take a shot at me and missed, or what happened. All I do know is that when I woke up, they were gone, and they didn't leave a trace behind."

"Is there anything else useful you can tell us about them?" Luke asked.

"Their leader's got a good throwing arm," he said morosely. "That, and I don't think they were Congolese, meaning they're not originally from these parts. I spent a few summers up around Uganda, Rwanda, and their inflection sounded more like some of theirs'." The Brit allowed his gaze to pass along the length of the group again, studying them for a few seconds longer. "I've got to say, your response time is phenomenal. The further they get out ahead, the less of a chance you have of picking up a trail. Are you some kind of army specialists?" He didn't fail to notice the small snort that came from Luke's mouth.

"We weren't sent here by the United States government," Luke told him. "We're here to get our friend back, and we_ will _find him."

Ryan Kirkland scratched his head at the man's confidence."You boys sure you know what you're doing? It'd be an awful shame to lose your own lives out there in the process. That wouldn't help anyone."

"We're not without resources," Greg offered crisply. "Thank you for your help sir. If you'll excuse us, we have a few more things to get done before we rest our heads tonight. It was nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." Ryan's confusion was still apparent. "You're armed I hope, and staying together? It can be pretty bad out here after dark, even when you're in a group."

"We're the musketeers," Tim said glibly. "We won't let each other out of our sights."

* * *

While the other three men climbed up front, Luke hopped into the back of the truck with Donatello. "How's it coming Donny? Where do we stand with this thing?"

"It's coming. I'm still playing with the different wavelengths to try running off of. I've achieved a signal already, it just wasn't very reliable. I managed to get a hit off Marc's beacon in the process. It faltered before I could find out much, but I _can_ tell you he's alive Doc. What little vital information I gathered from the chip indicated that he's doing all right physically."

"Think you can get it reliable by daybreak?" Luke asked with a sharp breath.

The purple-banded turtle nodded. "I might not sleep, but I'll get it working."

They'd been traveling along slowly for about ten minutes, before the truck came to a rather short stop. When nothing seemed to happen for a couple of minutes, Luke edged his way closer to Donatello. The turtle looked pretty tense, and Luke wasn't far behind him.

"I'm going to get out," the man said suddenly.

"No Doc, stay put," Donatello ordered. "Don't move at all yet. I'm going to see if I can hear anything."

The turtle pressed up against the edge of the fabric on the frame, holding his breath as he sensed someone right outside, probably a number of "someones" by the sound of footfalls. While he listened, the sound of an irritated voice speaking broken English by the driver's side door finally carried over from the opposite side he'd been stationed on.

"Donny, what is it?" Luke hissed.

"I think it's the Military Doc, some kind of check-point maybe. This might not be good."


	19. Tail

"Donny, what's going on out there?" Luke hardly breathed.

"I hear the doors. The other guys are getting out, and..." The purple-masked turtle sucked in a sharp breath when he got the briefest peek of something else waiting outside. "Have I told you how much I hate guns?"

"Just a few times Donny. Listen, I need to get out too. If I end up needing to divert, it'll be safer to do from there."

"Doc-"

"They could just as easily come find me here. Is that what you want? It'll be all right, they're bullies, that's all. We've got the right papers, they're probably only throwing their clout around."

Luke didn't wait for the turtle's permission, but quickly headed out the back. His feet had barely touched the earth, before a semi-automatic was leveled on him to prevent Luke from going any further. The doctor raised his hands innocently - he really had no interest in walking away from the back-end that he was currently shielding.

"What's this about?" he asked while a soldier held out his hand, as though demanding identification.

Luke slowly withdrew the passport and papers, as he waited for an answer from the stoic gunman.

"Look, we've already done this like three times today." Luke was annoyed, and made no attempt to steady the tone of voice.

"Please to shut up," the man replied sharply, and made an unmistakable motion for Luke to move.

The doctor held his ground as if he didn't understand, shrugging both shoulders at him. Around the right side of the truck he heard what sounded like Greg speaking in slightly fumbling French, trying to eke out a few words of reason with the soldiers. When Luke's head turned that direction, the man in front him nudged him with the barrel of his gun, as though to remind him that he was still there.

"Please to _move_," the soldier ordered outright, and Luke swallowed sharply. He couldn't pretend to not understand that.

When he still didn't budge instantly, his gunman muttered something rapidly in his own language, and waved at two others to grab him. The pair hauled him off around the right side of the truck, in full view of Tim, Greg, and Brandon. The anxious glances of his friends fell on Luke, pleading for some kind of assurance from him that Donatello wasn't in their line of sight.

Luke couldn't give it to them, but he had a strong feeling in his gut that the purple-banded turtle could handle himself somehow. Still, he had every intention of aiding him in any way that he could. Luke intentionally fought the men grasping him on either side, much to the dismay of his own friends who wanted him to settle down.

"Luke, are you _trying _to get yourself arrested?" Tim demanded incredulously.

"You ought to know what I'm doing!" Luke shot back forcefully.

Without another spoken word, the others began to mimic the same erratic behavior, enough that an African who seemed like "Officer" material barked a couple of harsh orders, which summoned the rest of the nearby troop to come help contain them.

"Why do you do this?" the Officer demanded of Greg. "You promised to obey."

"We've already um...had thieves," Greg replied, searching for the simplest English words he could find. "No stealing."

"We _will_ search, or vehicle comes with us," the man said firmly, indicating he wouldn't accept any arguments.

The Commander signaled to three of his men, and they headed around to the back of the truck. There was nothing more for the other men to do but wait tensely. Time seemed to stand still for the next ten minutes, as everyone stood by the truck without moving. The fact they hadn't heard anything yet was a _little_ comforting.

The soldiers ended up taking some of their rations to supplement their own evening meal, and left another mess for them to clean up in the back end. Luke climbed in eagerly when the men released them, and found no sign of Donatello or the scanner he'd been working on. He barely had time to consider where the turtle might actually be, before Tim's call over his hand-held radio warned Luke that the soldiers were ordering them to move on.

Luke depressed his own button, as he headed for the open back end once more. "We've got a problem Tim, I really don't where he is. He must have bailed, and if we drive off now-"

A hand on his shoulder in the dark almost made the doctor jump a mile.

"It's just me Doc, it's cool," the purple-banded turtle informed him, and Luke sensed that he was grinning.

"Donny's here Tim, just drive. Get us the heck out of here," Luke communicated to the man, and whirled around to face the turtle. "You scared me to death! Where were you? You can't tell me you've been in the back this whole time."

"Nah Doc, I made myself an opening through that fabric flap on the side, holed up under the truck." Donatello drew the man further toward the cab of the truck as it was starting to move again, and showed him where he'd cut a few inches. "I'm afraid you won't get your deposit back, but it can come out of my own pocket."

"Donny, you don't _have_ pockets."

"I guess you're tough outta luck then," Donatello cracked.

"Sit your shell down, and get back to work on your machine. You scare me like that again, and I'll...I'll..."

"You'll what Doc?"

"You won't like it, so don't push me."

* * *

All of them breathed a little easier when they'd departed Mbandaka. They had to travel a couple more miles into the trees to get closer to the area where they'd left the other turtles hours before. They'd waited until now to unload everything from the truck, and made their first trip down the gully through the deeper foliage together, so that everyone would be able to find the makeshift camp without a problem. As they headed down the incline, after taking a few minutes to re-pack and load up, Donatello hesitated in his step.

"Hey guys, hold up for a second," he urged the humans, as he tried to listen for something over their own noise.

The four men halted, looking back at the turtle who was already behind them.

"What is it Donny?" Brandon asked him.

"Shh," Donatello ordered him. "Just listen for a minute."

They stood there poised for well over _three_ minutes, before Greg took a step toward Donatello. "Did you hear something odd?"

"No," Donatello said honestly. "But I feel like something's out there though, something's watching."

"There could be a lot of critters around here Donny, this is some of their alive time," Luke suggested.

"It's not like that Doc," Donatello answered. "This is like we're being followed."

"I can see that we're going to have to keep a fire going all night," Greg teased lightly.

"What, you think I'm imagining this?" the purple-masked turtle demanded. "Ninjas have a sixth sense that kicks in sometimes - we _know_ when we're being watched."

"Ya'll must be immune to each _other's_." Brandon snorted. "Otherwise you'd never pull off a single prank."

"Guys, I'm serious," Donatello said a little stiffly.

"I felt the same thing back in Mbandaka," Tim said comfortingly. "A car was with us for awhile, but it didn't follow us out of the city. There was nothing behind us Donny, I promise."

The purple-banded turtle huffed slightly, and continued down the incline without another word.

"C'mon, don't be mad Donny," Luke said from beside him. "No one's doubting you felt something. This is a new atmosphere though, and there are a lot of things to get used to."

"Whatever you say Doc," the turtle said dismissively, as he readjusted the straps of his bag. "I just need to get down there, and get back to work. I'll be burning the midnight oil as it is."

"Don't think you're getting away without eating anything," Luke said warningly.

"Doc, you don't have to force-feed me - I'm a grown turtle."

"A grown turtle who can be single-minded to the point of obsession. I'm only thinking of what's best for you."

Donatello shot him a look, and shook his head. "I kind of thought some of this over-protectiveness would be re-directed now that you've got your own kid."

"Reina doesn't change the way I feel about you guys, or the need for someone to keep you in line," Luke finished teasingly.

"Yeah Luke, but who's gonna keep _you_ in line?" Donatello shot back appropriately.

"Her name's Kat Donny - I've been married to her for a few years now."

* * *

Once they reached the other turtles, Greg and Brandon made another trip back to the truck to gather the rest of their gear, while the others started to settle in alongside the brothers. Donatello had finished the wiring portion with the scanner, and had moved into more serious testing of different frequencies, searching for the most reliable source to patch Marcus' signal through.

The others were trying to give him space to concentrate, but Michelangelo eventually meandered over to him with a flask in hand.

"I can't guarantee how good it'll be Donny, but we'll probably be out here long enough for me to get better at it."

Donatello took a careful test sip of the hot liquid, and shot the orange-masked turtle a thumbs up. "It'll do the trick bro, I'm not going to get picky out here. Thanks for going to the trouble."

"No trouble. You holding up okay?"

The purple-masked turtle nodded. "I've captured enough stability to know that Marc's alive - and that's encouraging in itself."

A couple of yards away, Raphael had noticed the blue-masked turtle acting a little antsy, a trait that his older brother wasn't particularly known for. "Fearless, what's up with you?"

Leonardo's dark eyes only focused on his red-masked brother for an instant. "I need to walk."

"Right now? Are you okay Leo?"

"I'm cool Raph, don't make a big deal out of this. I'll be back in a little bit."

Raphael shrugged as his older brother disappeared into the darkness, and then sauntered over to where Greg and Brandon were unloading the last of their stuff.

"So what have you guys been doing with yourselves?" Greg asked the red-masked turtle. "I half expected to come back to find you swinging from the trees."

"Nah, you missed that party altogether." Raphael grinned. "What the shell took you so long anyway? You left April like an hour ago. The road's not _that_ bad, is it?"

"We've got stopped Raph, and completely searched," Brandon offered. "Your brother had to make a break for it."

Raphael snickered. "You guys act like it's hard. A lot of these types are so easily distracted; they miss 80% of what's going on around them."

They'd been kicking back for about fifteen minutes, when Greg realized he hadn't seen any sign of Leonardo since they'd returned. "Where's your fearless leader?"

"I dunno, he was restless or something. He said he was going for a walk," Raphael answered.

"How long's he been gone?" Brandon asked.

"Few minutes. He _was _acting weird - do you think I should go look for him?"

"Do you think he's having a problem?" Greg sat up further as he asked the question.

"You don't need to look for me." Leonardo's voice carried from the trees outside their small fire ring. "But we _do_ have a problem."

The blue-masked turtle emerged into the faint light that the flickering flames provided. He had a tall figure captured under one arm, so that the man was doubled over. Leonardo kept a firm grip on him as he addressed the others again.

"He was watching us from the ledge over there. I think we might want to consider moving."


	20. Tag Along

Greg was the first one capable of reacting, even if it _was_ in a predictable manner. The curse that escaped him was still impressive in its' vocabulary, and succeeded in getting the attention of everyone else on the other side of the clearing. They all dashed in that direction, as Leonardo forced the man to his knees. The turtle wasn't overly violent with him, but still maintained a strong grip on the stranger's shoulder to keep him in place.

"What the heck are you doing here?" Brandon was the next one to explode openly. "You _followed_ us?"

"I told you I felt someone!" Donatello announced indignantly, crossing his arms with a scowl.

"Wait a second, hold the phone! Do all of you know this guy?" Raphael cut in.

Luke advanced with all the irritation he possessed, and stopped mere inches from where Leonardo had Ryan Kirkland on the ground. "You had no right to come after us! Do you have any idea how much you've just complicated_ everything_?"

Michelangelo peeked around the semi-circle of angry men, and got his first glimpse of the grey-haired stranger. He could tell that Leonardo wasn't actually hurting him, but the beyond terrified look in the man's eyes made the turtle feel a little sorry for him. His oldest brother had avoided grasping him by what was clearly an injured shoulder, but Mike was still concerned about him being on the ground that way. Even the gentlest of their human companions could turn into a rabid attack dog if they felt like the safety of the turtles was threatened. Michelangelo could only imagine what the newcomer had to be feeling faced down by that many intense glares, let alone the turtles themselves.

"Hey, let's take it easy for a minute here," the orange-masked turtle suggested. "Can he like sit down or something? He'll need to breathe again pretty soon, and it'll be easier to ask questions that way."

Ryan's eyes locked with Michelangelo for a moment, the man's mask of fear wavered uncertainly. "I'll do whatever you want," the man spoke up a little raggedly, his English accent surprising the turtles. "I ask only for my life. Please don't kill me."

The turtles had heard those specific words uttered too many times to count, usually as a last ditch plea for mercy. Though the statement was a little strained in the stranger's case, the man was not begging. That alone seemed to go over well with the two older turtles, whose posture relaxed somewhat at once. Leonardo tugged him upright, and set him back down in a more comfortable position.

"Why are you here Mr. Kirkland?" Timothy asked flatly. "Why did you have to come?"

Ryan seemed to be having an easier time looking at the turtles than he was the other men, but he still forced himself to face Tim. "I was concerned about you, and I'm _responsible_ for Dr. Sloan and Miss Tompkins. It was my job to protect them. They helped saved the lives of others, and I was supposed to look after theirs'. I'm no spring chicken, but I still get called on for jobs like these, because I know what I'm doing, and I'm a good judge of people. Or at least, I have been in the past. Maybe I _am_getting too old for this. I should have seen that Nanji character from a mile off."

"Who's Nanji?" Leonardo asked.

"He's a local, one of the men hired as both a guide and an extra gun. He's also pretty well acquainted with Miss Tompkins, used to know her family. He's the one who betrayed them, set the whole thing up," Ryan replied bleakly, now staring at the ground. "I was there, and it made no difference. I'd probably feel better if they _had_ killed me."

The blue-banded turtle unexpectedly took a knee in front of him, and guided Kirkland's chin up to look him in the eyes again. "If you weren't a part of their plan, why did they let you go?"

He sucked in a small breath, but never wavered from the turtle's penetrating gaze. "I honestly and truly don't know."

Leonardo held that position for several seconds, before looking over his shoulder at the others. "He's telling the truth." Leonardo returned to his feet, and crossed his arms over his chest again. "Still doesn't give us any answers."

"You can say that again," Luke fumed, as he yanked out his cell-phone. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere, and I'll be back."

* * *

Luke disappeared from the fire circle to make his call, clenching the phone so tightly in his hand that his fingers were turning white. He fumbled through April's number, and dropped onto a rock with a massive sigh.

"I'm sorry to wake you," he said when she answered. "We've just had a major issue drop in on us. That guy Kirkland...how well do you know him?"

"Not extremely. I went out with their team on their first mission, because it kept them closer to Mbandaka. He seems to be a very loyal committed bodyguard. Why are you asking about him?"

"April, he managed to follow us out here somehow. Leonardo just snagged him off a ridge - he'd been watching us. Now we don't have a clue what to do with him!"

"Why on earth would he follow you? How did you leave off with him in the city?"

"He gave us information on the men who took Marc, and offered his assistance in locating him. We obviously refused as politely as we could. He didn't take no for answer, and now we've got a whole other problem on our hands."

"Luke...this guy might actually be able to help you, and he really _does _care about Marcus. He didn't want to be air-lifted back to Mbandaka. They had to heavily sedate him to even get him on the chopper. He wanted to get right back out on the trail to look for the two of them. He's one of those people who doesn't know when to quit...kind of like some other guys we know."

"Are you telling us to take a chance on him? Is that the message you want me to relay?"

"Luke, I can't tell you what to do. I'm only telling you my own observations about him. I don't know if he can be trusted completely, or if he should be going with you. You'll have to make that decision jointly."

"Would you trust him April?"

"I don't know Luke; I told you...I really don't know him well. I'm sorry, I'm not helping here much, am I?"

When Luke hung up and quietly returned, Tim was the first one to notice, and stepped away from the group to talk to him alone.

"What'd she say about him?" Tim asked, guessing whom Luke had called.

"She doesn't know much, except that he seems truly committed to finding Marc."

"Do you think we can chance bringing him with us?"

"I don't know if I want to _chance_ leaving him behind," Luke said honestly. "This is all messed up. It's not much of a choice he's left us with."

"The turtles seem pretty relaxed with him Luke. That's gotta say something."

"He's no coward, and that goes a long way with them. They're pretty confident in their own abilities to see through somebody."

"But we're not going to just trust some feeling here, are we?" Brandon popped up beside them. "We don't know him from Adam. We still don't know that he wasn't working right along with those idiots who took Marcus!"

"Are we deciding what to do with this guy?" Greg asked from behind him. "Because I've got a few ideas of my own."

* * *

Ryan's nervous glance rested on the four men who'd separated themselves, and he swallowed deeply as he turned back to face the strange faces that surrounded him. "Are they discussing how they're going to kill me?" He asked the question a little sarcastically, though part of him really meant it.

"We don't kill in cold blood," the purple-masked one answered. "We prefer not to kill at _all_."

Kirkland shivered involuntarily as he recalled the feeling of the blue-masked turtle's blade against his throat, as it had seemingly materialized out of thin air. The katanas were put away now, but the turtle still cast no less of an imposing image from where he sat. As much as it seemed he ought to fear the men deciding his fate, something in the sinewy forms of the creatures around him seemed far more deadly than any living thing he'd encountered before.

None of the creatures had looked particularly happy to see him, though the two he'd first seen were slightly more foreboding in nature. The purple-masked one was completely reserved, not giving away any true emotion in his gaze, while the orange-masked one who'd spoken up for him earlier seemed the most curious. The one with the blades still made him the most nervous, just because of the way he'd found him in the dark, even if his present expression was pretty even-keeled. He'd avoided the strange golden eyes of the red-masked turtle as much as he could, finding his expression the most unsettling of the four.

"What will they...that is...What are you going to do with me?" Ryan asked haltingly.

The four creatures exchanged glances.

"You've put us in a tight spot," the blue-masked turtle replied. "But like Donny said, we're not killers."

"Do you live out here?" Ryan had been wondering that for some time, but only now found the nerve to ask.

The red one snorted a little derisively. "We're New Yorkers - born and raised."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"We're here to find our friend, the same as the others," the purple-banded turtle answered. "Which is going to take a whole lot longer, if I don't get back to work. Lemme know if you have to vote on anything, but I've _got_ to get back to it."

As he was leaving, the other men started returning.

"Where are you going Don?" Greg asked.

"You guys figure this out, okay? I have to focus on other things," the creature answered a little hurriedly, before anyone could object.

Ryan fidgeted uncomfortably, as the others drew near and sat back down.

"The truth is, none of us know what to do with you," Luke said bluntly. "April told me a couple of good things, but the fact remains that you followed us out here without our consent, and you've compromised our friends' safety."

"Please believe me when I say I didn't mean to," Ryan said quietly. "I had no idea what I was walking into. I just wanted to help."

"You're going to have to come with us now, so you'd better actually be up for traveling," Greg said crossly, obviously unhappy with the situation.

"I'll do anything I can to help you," Kirkland said swiftly. "I can start by getting you to where everything went awry."

"We'll take your route, if it's the shortest road to where we need to end up," Luke said matter-of-factly. "It will depend very much on where the men took him."

Ryan cocked his head at him. "That's the first hurdle we've got to jump over - no one knows where they took them. I've received word that the heavy rains in that region have made it even harder to track them."

"I can appreciate a professional's experience, but that's not what we're relying upon," Luke replied. "We have our own method for tracking him, which I'm told will be operational before morning. In the meantime, we should get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."


	21. Animals

A dense fog clung to the air that morning, when Marcus was rudely aroused from sleep. He sat up on the hard ground, and rubbed the swelling knot on his shoulder from where some moron's foot had slammed into it. Marcus felt someone's eyes boring straight through him, and stiffened when he looked up to see the one called Ajamu. The impatient man bent over to yank the doctor off the ground, and roughly set him down on his feet.

"All right, all right," Marcus muttered with irritation, but forgot his annoyance immediately when he didn't see Rebecca in sight.

The two hadn't been long parted since the ordeal had begun, and it made waking up without her there a little unnerving. Ajamu motioned for him to move a particular direction, and rested one heavy guiding hand on Marc's shoulder as the doctor started walking. He avoided eye contact with the other rebels as Ajamu took him through the main camp-site, a practice Rebecca had encouraged him not to falter from. These were men looking for a reason to fight, and even the wrong glance at the wrong time could trigger something that Marcus wouldn't enjoy.

As her words raced through his mind again, he began to feel even more anxious about where she could be. She'd gone to sleep at his side, like every night previously, when they would whisper to each other in the darkness until someone shut them up. Ajamu grunted something at Marcus that sounded distinctly like a command, and the doctor rolled his eyes inwardly in exasperation.

_Does he think I woke up suddenly knowing how to speak their blasted language? Where is Rebecca?_

No sooner had the last question flitted through his mind, than he heard the sound of multiple gunshots from several yards out. Instant fear clawed at his chest, as the natural desire to run or recoil from the weapons fled among his desperation to make sure that the young woman was safe. A pair of fists broad-sided him when he tried to run toward the sound. The first crashed into his rib-cage, while the second plowed directly into his chin with all the brute force the rebel possessed. Marcus went down hard before he even had a chance to connect with the pain, crumpling limply to the ground.

His eyes were open, yet he still seemed to be hovering on the verge of unconsciousness. Someone's fingers carefully supported his neck, then the back of his head. The awareness of their touch was the spring-board for stirring further, and the bleary-eyed gaze came back into focus.

"Hey. Take it slow, all right?"

Marcus sighed with a deep sense of reassurance when he saw those blue-green eyes looking back at him. "I heard guns, and I thought..."

Rebecca gave him a somewhat relieved smile of her own. "No Marc, I'm all right. How's your head feel?"

"Oh, it's fine. You haven't _really_ lived until you've been decked by Raphael," he mumbled, still partially lost in his daze.

She looked confused. "What?"

"Um...nothing. Don't listen to anything I say right now, okay?" He quickly recovered, as she helped him sit up partially. "So what was that anyway? What were they shooting at?"

"You don't want to know."

"I don't suppose they turned them on each other?"

"If only we could be so lucky," she fumed. "They ganged up on a gorilla."

"They killed it? Was it even posing a threat?"

"It wasn't about a threat, it was about meat," she replied bitterly.

"They killed an endangered animal for _food_?"

"They don't care Marc. There are laws against it, but what difference does that make?"

"Is it here?" he asked timidly.

She nodded her head. "You don't want to see it though. They didn't waste any time to start butchering it."

Marcus clenched his fists on either side of him, and cast a dirty look at whatever man happened to be within his range of sight. "_They're _the animals," he proclaimed emphatically, as Rebecca tugged his arm to get his attention back on her.

"They don't need an excuse to hurt you Marcus. Don't look them-"

"I know, you've told me. I just don't care right now. They shouldn't be allowed to do this, to get away with it. It's so wrong."

Neither of them were offered any of the "meat", and they wouldn't have taken it anyway. Marcus had decided he'd rather starve to death than have any part of it. As they finally started off in the Jeep again that morning, he noticed that Rebecca was paying more attention to the landscape surrounding them than she had before.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" He asked.

"Not exactly, no. From the way they're talking, I'm not sure how much longer we'll be using these vehicles. It sounds like we'll have to go on foot to get where they're actually taking us. Maybe as soon as..." Rebecca trailed off for a moment, as she inconspicuously listened to the driver sitting in front of her. "We'll be approaching the higher elevations by this afternoon."

"Are you talking like mountains?"

"I don't think so. The word he used more commonly refers to the regular highlands or hills, which could indicate one of two things."

"Let's hear 'em Becky."

"It could mean we're being taken to one of their strongholds, where we'll have the awesome privilege of being surrounded by even more of them. It could also mean we're on our way to one of the mining villages."

"Why would we be going there?"

She held out her hands. "They want your skills for something Marc, that's what this all comes down to. For _who_ is the real question. I guess we're just going to have to wait and find out."

Marcus crossed his arms in aggravation. "If they think I'm going to treat any of_ them_, they'd better have another thought coming." But then he sighed softly. "I don't have a choice though, do I? They'll kill us both if I don't cooperate."

"I don't want you to worry about what they do with me. I'm not afraid of dying Marcus."

"You've got to have some family that's worried about you Becky. What about your parents, your sister?"

"You don't need to worry about them either," she replied simply, without breaking her own condition of silence on the matter.

"Do you think they're planning to kill us, no matter what we do? I want the truth Rebecca."

"Eventually, yes, I do think that's their intention. How long they plan to keep us alive, I couldn't even venture to guess."

* * *

The rescue party's first course of action at daybreak had been to return the truck they'd picked up at the airport, and look into obtaining a couple of Jeeps in its' place, for the purpose of traveling faster through the bush. All of the men had returned with Kirkland tightly in hand, along with his promise to help them procure whatever they needed. The turtles had been waiting around impatiently for them to return, having nothing to do once all the gear had already been re-packed.

They'd been asked not to do much wandering, so they'd simply stayed put in a semi-circle for the time being, listening to the sounds of nature that surrounded them on every side. The only one _not_ currently engaged in active waiting was the purple-masked turtle, who was dozing a couple of paces away from the others. Michelangelo had been keeping half an eye on Donatello just in case he stirred, but the turtle hadn't made a sound since shortly after the men had departed again.

Donatello had been up most of the night, but felt confident he'd worked out the remaining bugs that had been causing instability in his location software. So while he rested, the other three turtles kept a mostly silent watch. Raphael was having the most difficulty staying put, but Leonardo had ended up putting his foot down.

"We don't know when they're getting back Raph. It would be easier if we're all ready to go when they are." Leonardo reasoned.

"But it's okay for you to wander off," Raphael grumbled. "I don't get why _you_ get to have all the fun."

Leonardo did his best to repress a smile. "What's the point in sending in two, when one can get the job done just fine?"

"Like I said, you hogged all the fun," Raphael retorted, but then jerked his head upright as a sound overhead caught his attention.

The other two turtles had heard it too, but the red-masked one was the first to spot the creature that went along with it. "Do you guys see him? How cool is this?"

Michelangelo squinted slightly in the direction his brother indicated, and then made out the greyish-colored monkey, clinging to the bark about half-way up the trunk of a tree beside them. The orange-masked turtle got carefully to his feet, and stretched to his full height so that he could obtain a better look at the luminous eyes that were staring down at them. Meanwhile, Raphael had edged his way off the ground too, and took a small step toward the tree.

"Hey little guy. C'mon down here, let us get a better look at you," Raphael encouraged the creature hopefully.

"Raph, that thing isn't your cat - he won't come just because you call him," Leonardo said glibly.

"He looks interested. Maybe he'll come for food," Raphael suggested.

"Bro, he's_ wild_. There's food everywhere, he doesn't need to get it from you," the blue-masked turtle pointed out.

"Have we got something better to do Fearless?" Raphael didn't even bother to look over his shoulder that time. The turtle swiped for a fallen mango that was on the ground, then sliced off a portion of the fruit, and held it up to show the unmoving creature.

Michelangelo joined him, and made the universal clicking sound to call the creature. "C'mon monkey. Aw, he's neat...he looks like he's gotta mask on too."

"I bet Donny would know what he is. You think he'd wanna see him?" Raphael wondered. "We probably shouldn't bug him."

"I'm going to chance it," Leonardo replied. "I have to make sure the two of you aren't about to catch monkey-pox or something dumb like that."

The blue-masked turtle silently went to his younger brother's side, and prodded him lightly.

"Hm?" The purple-banded turtle raised his head. "Are the others back yet?"

"No, we've got another visitor that you need to see."

"How many guys do we have room for in this caravan?" Donatello asked sleepily.

"Not that kind of visitor." Leonardo offered him an arm up off the ground, and he rose somewhat stiffly.

Donatello rubbed one eye, as he glanced up to where his brother was pointing. "Oh. _Cercopithecus asanius_," he remarked curiously.

"English, por favor," the red-masked turtle shot back at him.

"He's a red-tailed monkey," Donny answered. "Good looking specimen too."

"_Is _it a boy Donny?" Michelangelo spoke up.

"It probably is, most of the loners are males. The females live in groups together, with one single male over them. But I don't think he's coming down guys."

"You sure genius? He looks pretty interested," Raphael added with a half smile, as the monkey shifted slightly against the bark.

"He doesn't know what to make of us Raph. Doesn't appear to be aggressive," Donatello said thoughtfully. "I bet he feels outnumbered though."

"I don't know, I say we try and wait him out," Michelangelo suggested.

"Hey guys?" Leonardo said quickly. "Look up. You might want to look up right now, higher in the trees."

The other three broke out of debate long enough to shift gazes higher, and gasped almost simultaneously at the plethora of grey and white monkeys lingering further up in the foliage, above the one positioned closer to the ground. They were clinging to branches so that they were nearly hidden from sight behind vegetation.

The moment all three had been trained on the higher branches, the one on the trunk made his own nimble descent. Raphael tossed the mango toward him without a hint of hesitation, chuckling softly when the monkey grabbed for it. "Tough little guy. Turtles aren't so bad, huh?"

The creature chattered something that almost sounded conversational in the turtle's direction, and then skittered back up the tree.

"I guess you made a new friend Raphy. Do you think he'll get along with Tiger?" Michelangelo quipped.

"Nah, he's gotta get back to his harem." Raphael snickered.

Donatello shook his head a little tiredly. "This is the tip of the iceberg guys. I need to hit the sack - wake me up if you see a leopard."

"Wait, how big are those again?" Michelangelo squeaked.

"Bigger than your average house cat. G'night."


	22. Isolation

The men had been pouring over a couple of different maps in April's rented room and comparing the coordinates they had to go on from Donatello's scanner. The software had been tracing Marc's signal since early that morning, but the main problem remained that it wasn't stationary yet.

Ryan was still trying to interject his own opinion on the matter, _without_ sounding like he was attempting to commandeer the mission. He hadn't been invited into their world; he was an intruder, not a guest. That was being made very clear to him from the other men's icy demeanor, and the guarded way they were still talking around him. He wasn't supposed to be a part of this, but he knew they felt like they had no choice but to include him, to keep an eye on him if nothing else. While Kirkland knew they didn't particularly want his help, that didn't mean he wouldn't try to earn their trust regardless.

He was _still_ trying to decide what part of the last twelve hours had been the most shocking. On the one hand, he was staring at a piece of technology that was more advanced than anything he'd ever actually had sitting in front of him, but he couldn't get the image of the creatures out of his head either. The two younger of the four crossed his mind again, as he simply listened to the other men talk. There was Michelangelo, who'd tried to make him feel as comfortable as possible last night, but then Donatello was the one who'd worked well into the early hours to get the device functioning.

_They're turtles_, he reminded himself, _They're not things or animals - at least they're not like any other animal out there._ Their intelligence alone was astonishing, and their very mannerisms gave proof to their humanoid abilities. Kirkland hadn't bothered with any of the normal questions last night, deciding to allow them to reveal information as they chose.

He cast another glance around the group, and met April's gaze momentarily. She nodded at him, as if to encourage him to speak up if he needed to. With a deep breath, he worked up the necessary nerve.

"Gentlemen, the distance we're actually talking about crossing here is a rather large one. If you're honestly still considering driving the whole way, you've got to be prepared for the eventuality of it taking a lot longer than you'll want it to. The terrain is pretty unforgivable, and ponderously slow to travel over. It's better by boat, but you can't even go the whole distance navigating upstream. The water-ways are only useable to a certain point, before we'd run into unassailable rapids and cataracts," Ryan volunteered.

"What are you suggesting then?" Timothy asked.

"I'm going to assume you've got access to your own plane? Can't imagine how you'd have gotten your friends into the country otherwise," Kirkland supposed.

Greg nodded. "We've got a Gulfstream back at the airport. But are you suggesting that we just start flying, without knowing where he's going to end up? This might come as a shock to you, but we've already had our fair share of trouble with Immigration. Every airport that we have to deal with is going to be like navigating through a minefield. There's the small matter of getting our boys through it safely, as well as getting out without being detained ourselves."

"What I would propose is that we go ahead and fly the 1000km to Kisangani, and take another look at his coordinates from there. From the direction they've been traveling, it appears that they're heading for the Kivu region, but only time is going to tell for certain. Is flying putting all of you at further risk from the Military and Immigration? Absolutely. What you've got to decide is whether or not the increased speed with which you'll be able to act is worth it or not.

I'll help you in any possible way that I can as well. Not many people outside of the largest cities can even speak French. Immigration, or the DGM as they're mostly known around here, is an exception to that rule. I can interpret for you in that case, and maybe even help expedite things. I believe it's the fastest option you've got, and something that ought to be seriously considered at the very least," Ryan finished a little insistently.

* * *

While the turtles weren't thrilled with the idea of dealing with the airport again that soon, they couldn't argue the logic of Kirkland's recommendation anymore than the men could. The humans still had several loose ends to tie up in Mbandaka, and further documentation to file with the authorities before they could come to pick up the brothers, leaving them in a longer holding pattern than they'd expected.

On the bright side, the turtles had learned that April would be traveling with them, a development that brought some relief to all four of them. With the extended wait for the others, Raphael had finally irritated Leonardo to the point that he'd agreed to a small amount of wandering away from their campsite. The two older turtles had left a little while after the "conference call" that had decided their next direction, with Michelangelo's assurance that he'd keep an eye out for Donny while he tried to get some more sleep.

Mike had no pen or paper in front of him, but that was no hindrance to the creative mode his mind had fallen into, for the pure purpose of staying occupied. He'd been stuck in a particular sequence in his fiction for a few days now, though he hadn't thought of it since learning that Marcus had disappeared. Now, with nothing to do but sit, it was starting to gnaw on the back of his mind again.

The particular scene that was giving him these issues centered around his female lead, a spy who'd been captured by the other side. He'd been trying to draw from his own recent forced imprisonment among the Akiudo for inspiration. Delving back into some of it was more difficult than he'd expected it to be, particularly on the subject of complete isolation.

He'd learned more about isolation from a personal stand-point in the last couple of years than he'd ever wanted to, whether it had been physically enforced by their enemies, or intentionally embraced. Michelangelo had never done well with separation. He was the turtle who relied heavily on relationships and thrived on physical contact, more so than any of the others.

By the very nature of his responsibilities, Leonardo was accustomed to sorting through certain things on his own. Raph was Raph - in their younger days that translated into the red-masked turtle being off on his own for several hours at a time. In some ways he was_ still _the most distant, despite how things had changed since Splinter's death. Donatello's isolation had a different motivation behind it. Most often he _had_ to work alone, because of filtering through technical aspects the rest of them couldn't begin to fathom. The purple-masked turtle remained the closest to him, even if Michelangelo _did_ occasionally still have to pry real answers out of him with a crowbar.

The forced separation in times of danger was one thing - but his willing isolation from his brothers was another matter entirely. Their over-eager attempts to make sure that he remained included among their own relationships with the girls, had only caused the orange-masked turtle to work harder to give them space. He had a hunch that his increased drive for writing stemmed partially _from_ that, and it was also a perfect excuse for ducking out when he felt like he was getting in the way.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't realize that his purple-masked brother gazing at him, until Donatello softly cleared his throat.

"What's the matter Donny? Shouldn't you be sleepin'?"

"You've got that look again Mikey."

"What look?" he asked innocently, though he knew full well that he was too honest with his emotions to be able to hide them properly.

Donatello drew upright into a sitting position, crossing both legs beneath him on the ground. "You know what I'm talking about. Why do you bother pretending?"

"I dunno. I have to make you work for it at some point," the orange-masked turtle cracked, and Donny shook his head at him.

"What's up with you?" his brother persisted stubbornly.

"Nothing, I'm just sitting here waiting around on everyone else," Mike replied nonchalantly. "I can't wait to see April - I'm really glad they decided to let her come."

Donatello's chocolate brown eyes bored into him as he deflected the question, and he wilted somewhat under his gaze.

"I'm all right. I'm going through some stuff in my head for writing, remembering things from last year."

"Why are you doing that Mikey? If you need to talk about it-"

"I don't," he said swiftly. "I'm trying to put myself in the character's shoes, and it's making me think too much, that's all. It's not even like I had it that bad."

At Donatello's strange look, he reiterated himself. "Well, it wasn't, not when you think about Dayton, or what Raph musta gone through with Stolle. It wasn't that bad. Worrying over the girls was the worst part of all of it."

"But if it's bothering you to go back over it-"

"Donny, I'm fine. Fiction's not gonna hurt me. In the meantime, you're supposed to be resting."

"It's too late for that," Donny replied, grunting as he cracked his neck on one side. "I'm glad you're enjoying this new venture with writing, it's just...I know you don't want to hear it, but I've been worrying about you a little. It feels kind of like you're withdrawing, and that's not like you. I don't like it."

"No, it's like_ you_," Michelangelo quipped, as Donatello rolled his eyes at him. "Don, seriously, if I wasn't okay, you'd be the first one I'd tell. Y'know I have a hard enough time concentrating on one thing at a time. Sometimes I have to shut down other stuff, just so I can focus."

Donatello shrugged. "All right Mikey, whatever you say. I'm not trying to bug you."

"I didn't say you were bugging me," Michelangelo replied, and gave his brother what he hoped was a reassuring look. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the remaining satellite phone that the men had left behind with the brothers suddenly vibrated on his belt. Michelangelo pulled it off and glanced at the facing, expecting it to be one of the guys. He was pleasantly surprised to see Jenna's number come up instead.

"Who is it?" Donny asked when he hesitated.

"Just somebody's girl," Mike said with a teasing grin, and flipped the phone open. "Hellooo?" he answered with a slightly sing-song tone. "Yup, you got the right phone this time."

When Donatello had taken to the task of upgrading the phones before they left the US, he'd simply started from scratch on three spares, which made it difficult for the girls at home to determine who had which phone.

"So what's up? Are you totally bored without us yet?" Michelangelo asked her. "Hmm...no, I don't have a clue where he is. Haven't seen him in a couple hours, you know how your husband likes to wander off."

"Mikey, who is that?" the purple-banded turtle spoke up.

Michelangelo only laughed in return. "Yeah, I was going to organize a search party for him." He intentionally kept the hand grasping the phone away from Donatello. "No, you didn't hear him...I told you, he's not here."

"Is that Jenna?"

The orange-masked turtle was chuckling at something the woman had said, even as he darted to his feet to continue playing keep-away. "You miss him that much already?"

"Mikey, give me the phone!"

"No one said it was for you Donny."

Donatello fought to get his arm around his younger brother's neck as he struggled, and succeeded in capturing him in a head-lock. "Let me have it!"

Between sputtering and laughing, Michelangelo had no choice but to surrender the phone. "I can't help it if your wife couldn't stop talking to me Donny!"

The purple-masked turtle completely ignored him, and didn't release his grip on Mike, even when he brought the phone finally to his ear. "Jen?" he queried a little breathlessly, and then broke into a wide smile. "Aw...yeah. I miss you too."


	23. Sides

*** More to come on Rebecca later...The girl has a story, but it will be revealed in it's own timing. The song in this chapter is called "Still", and it was written by Reuben Morgan.**

* * *

It had been a long day of walking for everyone, and even Rebecca's toned legs were burning from the exertion of climbing the last of the incline. Her gaze had drifted back over her shoulder intermittently at the torrent of rushing water that was below them, as she tried to imagine which of the tributaries it could be. There was a strong network of waterways that connected back to the Congo River, and this one was probably at the fiercest flood stage it would experience all year.

When she wasn't distracted by trying to figure out where they were, she was watching Marcus closely. She was intensely concerned for the doctor's well-being, but he didn't appear to be suffering any obvious ill-effects from the days' jaunt. Despite being pushed to keep going, they hadn't been forced to travel at an unreasonable speed.

Marcus' asthma had been one of the most terrifying prospects at the beginning of this journey; particularly after the serious attack he'd had in the car. By some means of determination she wasn't sure she could grasp, he'd fought his stress level down, so he could more easily maintain an open airway. She was both relieved by that, and strangely comforted by the doctor's presence. Rebecca had no idea how much of the stories he was telling her were real, but she'd decided to accept whatever he said at face value. It was a welcome distraction from their current predicament if nothing else.

The sun had already dipped behind the trees by the time they'd made it near the top of the ridge, and Rebecca's compulsion to relax somewhat after the difficult climb caused her stumble over a loose rock. She felt someone's arm around her waist, and locked eyes with her traitorous friend. Rebecca jerked away from the man as if his hand were a snake, and adjusted her weight to correct her balance.

Once they'd crested the ridge, Rebecca could see a settlement of a more permanent nature ahead of them, with several fires dotting the landscape. Ajamu doubled back to where Rebecca and Marcus had been marching and gave them a somewhat cocky smile, as if to relieve any hope that they'd been followed. Crossing into what appeared to be the Africans' home territory seemed to have lifted the spirits of all the men at once.

"_We will rest here tonight, and you'd better make certain that you do_," Ajamu told Rebecca warningly. "_There will be further to go tomorrow, and work to do when you get there_."

"_What work_?" she tried asking.

The man simply shook his head at her in exasperation. "_Tomorrow_."

He turned to leave them after that, and left some of the others to escort them forward. They acted as if they'd had prior instructions, as they continued herding Rebecca and Marcus along through the middle of the settlement. Rebecca noticed that Marc's gaze was repeatedly drawn toward a number burned-out remains, all that was left of several huts that had been destroyed. They cast an odd image, intermixed between existing shelters, and others that looked newer.

"Why would the fires be so random?" Marc wondered aloud.

"They weren't," she replied shortly. "They were probably set intentionally, to drive some tribe off this land so that they could claim it for themselves. It's a regular enough occurrence."

The way he bit his lip conveyed his annoyance without words. Rebecca had been concerned that they might be separated once they reached their destination, but they still seemed to be heading in the same direction thus far. She hadn't been able to completely avoid the leering gazes of other men, watching as they were guided through the village. Several uncomfortable glances had been fastened specifically on her, and she well understood their deeper meaning.

These men weren't picky when it came to taking advantage of women. They were even known to prey on the oldest, if the mood suited them. Now they wanted _her_, and there was absolutely no telling how long it would be before one or six of them would approach her at once. She tried to control the shudder that the last thought had produced in her, but wasn't entirely successful.

The other men weren't the only ones who'd been observing her. "Becky? What is it, what's happening?" Marcus asked.

"We're being taken somewhere to sleep, and hopefully we'll get to stay together. They haven't said either way yet," she replied.

"I see how they're looking at you," Marcus said pointedly, not ignoring the fact that she hadn't really answered the question. "If there's anything I can do-"

"You can't Marc, you can't try to interfere. I don't know if they'll try anything or not, but it won't end well if you step in," Rebecca said softly as she kept her focus straight ahead, refusing eye contact with yet _another_ man.

But Nanji had no attention of letting her ignore him forever. "_Unathi,_" he said softly, so that only she or Marcus could have heard him. "_I need to talk to you later. I will be staying with both of you tonight_."

Rebecca didn't acknowledge that he'd said anything, but turned a small smile toward Marcus. "It sounds like we're not being separated."

"Thank God for that."

They were at last directed to a non-descript hut, that didn't look any different from a number of others in the same area. Marcus looked clearly relieved to have a roof overhead again, on behalf of the rain that would no doubt be picking up again if the distant thunder was any indication. The minute they were shut inside with none other than their betrayer however, the tension in his shoulders returned.

Without a spoken word, both captives pulled off their own packs they'd been toting, and left them to rest on the side of the small dwelling. There wasn't very much to the space, which they slowly circled as Nanji lit an enclosed lantern. Through the sole window, Rebecca could see that the hut was surrounded by other men, and assumed it would probably stay that way all night.

Marcus was currently fingering the roped knots of one of the hammocks, cocking his head with something that looked like concern. "I'm not sure how good I'll be with this thing."

"It's better than getting eaten alive, isn't it?" Rebecca suggested lightly, and he nodded.

"No arguments there. I guess we're stuck with this guy though, aren't we?" He barely motioned his head toward Nanji.

"So it seems." She sighed.

Rebecca had encouraged Marcus to get to sleep as soon as he could that night, since she had a gut feeling that the "work" required tomorrow would be more intensive on his part than it would be hers'. She waited until his breathing was deep and even, before silently rising out of her own hammock. She knew that Marcus wouldn't settle down if she was talking to Nanji, and therefore had to wait until he was asleep to make her own move.

The man was sitting casually against the door, with his gun balanced across his lap. Rebecca eyed the weapon distastefully, not quite sure how to approach him.

"_Sit down, you've been on your feet long enough today_," Nanji said somewhat lazily.

"_You are confusing me to no end," _she proclaimed, but did end up lowering to the floor a couple of feet away from him.

"_You don't need to worry about any of the men coming after you Unathi - they aren't going to. I told them...I said that you've been used before, and that you have AIDS, only recently found out. I explained that was the reason you came back to Africa, because it didn't matter to you if you lived or died," _he explained haltingly.

"_But _why_ Nanji? If you care what happens, why did you betray me? Please don't tell me it was for money. If my parents could see you now, I can only imagine what they'd say, or Hannah for that matter. I just don't understand any of this. What happened to you?_" Rebecca asked, as she'd been dying to do for days.

"_The same thing that happened to you_," he replied bluntly. "_I can't help that I didn't get over it so easily_."

Her mouth dropped slightly. "_You think I've had it easy? You don't have any idea what I've been through_!" she fumed, struggling to keep her voice down.

"_I know that you didn't have to come back here_."

"_Why is it so hard to understand why I did? We've been over this Nanji - and we're not talking about me right now. I'm asking about _you_. Why did you do this_?"

"_When you're in a war, sooner or later, you have to choose a side_," he said coldly.

"_The war's over Nanji, it's _been_ over_."

"_That's only politics Unathi. Does it look like the war is really over_?"

"_How could you change so much? I don't even know who you are_." She was close to tears, and hated herself for it. "_How do you think this is all going to end? You know they're going to kill us_."

"_There's nothing I can do for the doctor, and they were going to take one, whether I found him for them or not. But if I prove my worth unquestionably, then I might be able to request you for myself. Then no one could do anything to you_," he answered.

A humorless laugh escaped her. "_And you think I'd agree to something like that_?"

"_It's better than being dead, isn't it_?"

"_No, I don't think it is. I don't understand how you can live with yourself. You were nearly a member of my family, you were supposed to be with my sister. What would she think of you right now_?"

"_There's no point in talking about her_."

"_You're not this person Nanji. Deep down, I know you're not. These men are pure evil - you're not like them_."

"_Your parents were the most wonderful people I ever knew_," he said softly. "_They cared for us when no one else did. And what did it get for them_?"

"_I'm not following your thinking_."

"_It didn't do them any good. Nothing they accomplished mattered - their luck was still against them_," Nanji replied faintly. "_I had to make a decision, not to be driven by pure chance. If I want something out of this life, I have to get it the only way I know how_."

Rebecca rubbed her throbbing forehead, and climbed slowly to her feet. "_You're dead wrong - but there will be no proving that to you, will there_?"

The young woman returned to the hammock, having given up hope of having a rational discussion with the man. She listened to Marc's breathing for a few more minutes, hoping that his rhythm might help_ her _unwind from the conversation she'd just had. It had been over an hour without even the threat of sleep approaching, when she opened her eyes to gaze at the ceiling again.

_Oh God, I don't care what happens to me. I really don't. But Marcus has a wife, has a family. You've got to get him out of this, please. If there's anyone out there looking, help them find us. Give them some kind of guidance to get here. Please let them come before it's too late, before anything happens to him. Help his breathing - I pray that his asthma would stay under control, and that he wouldn't have any issues with it. Bring him home safe, bring him back to-_

A sharp familiar twinge in her right calf interrupted the plea, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she tried to adjust her leg accordingly. Cramping up again. It had been going so well too. She resisted the urge to get up and try to walk it off; that would no doubt wake her up even more. With one hand she lightly massaged the muscles, and sighed heavily. It was time to try something different.

Rebecca recalled familiar words to mind, focusing every ounce of energy on the song that was going through her head.

_"Hide me now,_

_Under Your wings._

_Cover me,_

_Within Your mighty hand._

_When the oceans rise_

_And thunders roar_

_I will soar with You_

_Above the storm_

_Father You are King over the flood_

_I will be still_

_And know You are God."_

The chorus repeated in her mind a number of times, as troubled thoughts and pain finally began to give way to her own need to rest. She relished the calm that washed over her, with the reminder that what she was facing here and now wouldn't be the end of everything. _Our present sufferings aren't even worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. _

She relaxed completely for the first time in days, and gladly welcomed the dark curtain.


	24. Detained

Greg had been displaying the same bored/uninterested expression for the last three hours, ever since he'd entered into another round of interrogation. Upon landing in Kisangani they'd all been separated once more. It had started out the same as the other times, with the officials trying to latch onto what limited French he knew. But when they started asking more in-depth questions about his FBI dealings, Greg got completely lost in what they were going on about.

The soldiers had spent half an hour alone just tracking down a translator who could speak both English and French well enough to interpret for both sides, having been quite unwilling to use Kirkland since he was part of their original group. The sandy-haired man had been growing more nervous the longer that it lasted. He was also uncomfortable with the fact that some official had disappeared with the original copies of all his paperwork hours before, and had yet to return with them. He couldn't help but wonder if the others were being held this way, and hoped to high heaven that someone had found a way to get the turtles off the air strip.

Greg rested his forehead almost flat on top of the table, as he waited for something else to happen. There had been a momentary lull in questioning, as two of the men who'd been in the room with him ducked out into the hallway to talk to someone else.

_I hope everyone else is okay. Man, this is _ridiculous_. As if I've got some secret plot for infiltrating their country. You caught me guys - I just thought it'd be fun to throw myself to the sharks for kicks._

When the door jolted open, Greg's head shot up a little hopefully. Maybe now they would start _getting_ somewhere. The interpreter and the man who'd been out in the hallway to start with took a stoic seat across from him.

"Agent Heffernan-" the official started, and Greg stopped him before he could even get another word off.

"You really don't need to call me that. I'm not here on FBI business. We've been over this a thousand times, but I guess I have to try again. I'm here in an effort to help find my friend. I have no other purpose in traveling to your_ fine _country, nor am I looking to steal any of your resources," he tried to say without too much disdain. "Is it possible to move this along already? It's been a long day, and I'd kind of like to see my friends, and get settled back down."

Greg waited patiently while the translator relayed his speech a portion a time, and then held up his hands questioningly toward the official. Something about the way the man smiled back at him wasn't extremely encouraging. The tone of man's reply didn't exactly sound cheering either, and it was confirmed for certain when the translator answered Greg for him.

"Mr. Heffernan, the rest of your group has already been processed, but I'm afraid we're not quite finished here."

"What more can I possibly do for you?" Greg was completely exasperated. "You've got my documentation. You know I'm in your country legally. What's the point in making this harder than it needs to be?"

He waited with baited breath for the answer, a small sinking feeling expanding in the pit of his stomach.

"Unfortunately, we are running into some issues with your visa. Your continued patience is going to be necessary in this matter. You're not going anywhere for right now."

* * *

"_What_? That's complete bull, they can't do that!" Brandon had exploded so suddenly after picking up the phone, that the turtles fell silent in the discussion they'd been having with April. "Democratic Republic my foot, this is tyranny!...How can they get away with that?...Well if this doesn't beat all! What are we supposed to do? How long is this going to take?" The man swore severely before being able to continue. "Luke and Kirkland were looking into that, we're expecting them back at any time...No, they're fine for right now. Nobody's been real nosy, but I don't think they should stay here overnight...Okay, yeah, I'm trying here, I am. Let me know if you hear...That's great. That's just perfect. They might as well confiscate the plane too...Maybe that is a little dangerous to say out loud...I'll call you when the others come back, and let you know what we're doing. Bye Tim."

Several pairs of widened eyes were waiting for him when he hung up the phone.

"What the shell was that Brandon?" Raphael demanded.

"They're holding Greg," the man fumed in return.

"For how long? What's the deal?" Leonardo asked.

"How long is anybody's guess, he's already in lock-up as we speak. Safe to say he's not getting out tonight."

"This is unreal," Donatello said in disbelief. "They can't actually do this, can they?"

"They're getting away with it for right now, and there's nothing we can do about it," Brandon said plainly.

"The heck we can't." Michelangelo scoffed. "Tell me we haven't broken through tighter spots than this."

"I'm sure you guys probably could," April allowed. "But that would be too risky as far as _Greg_ is concerned. They have all his information, and they know the plane. Even if you could get him out, we'd still have to deal with Immigration again at some point, if we're going to keep chasing after Marcus. We can't afford to get Greg kicked out entirely."

"We recognize the reason in it, but it doesn't make it any easier to just sit here," Leonardo remarked with a little more irritation than he typically displayed, swiping sweat from his brow.

They'd been waiting inside of the Gulfstream for almost fours now, consistently on edge at the risk of unwanted visitors. The soldiers hadn't bothered them thus far, but according to Brandon they'd still been hanging around uncomfortably nearby, as if watching the plane itself.

"Shouldn't we be calling the cavalry?" Michelangelo suggested. "What about Heff's Director with the FBI? Could he help?"

"Hard to say how much influence he could have here," Donatello said morosely. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to try. We ought to get in contact with Kat, see what she has to say."

As the purple-banded turtle finished the sentence, the sound of feet on the steps leading to the plane almost sent all four turtles into panic mode. Brandon darted toward the door, but breathed in relief a couple of seconds later.

"It's okay guys - it's just Luke and Ryan."

From the way Luke re-boarded the plane, it was obvious he already knew about Greg's detention "This is such a joke," he said darkly, angrily flinging raindrops in all directions. "I can't believe we have to put up with this. They'd _better_ not be mistreating him."

"Have you heard anything specific on a time-line?" April asked, and Luke cast Kirkland a questioning glance.

The grey-haired gentleman shrugged with a note of concern. "They're disputing the validity of his visa - it could take days. I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I'd no idea they would grasp at straws this way."

"How can they contest it?" Donatello wanted to know. "After all the check-points you've already been through, I'd think it couldn't be questioned now."

Ryan shook his head. "These things aren't exactly computerized. There's no record of how many times they've already been processed. The lack of true records makes it pretty easy to take advantage of foreign travelers. Whether this was the first time or the 20th, I don't think it would make any difference though. The DGM is notorious for requiring bribes, and my gut says that's all this is about."

Luke rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "We already paid out the boot to get into the country. If they want to make more money, why don't they just come right out and say so?"

"Because that would bring their invalid claim into suspect. They've got to get you desperate first, then they'll spring it on you," Kirkland said grimly.

"I think we need to call in the big guns," Brandon stated. "Mikey suggested something about Greg's people back in the US."

Luke nodded immediately. "If we call Kat first, she might be able to organize things stateside, even work in conjunction with Victoria if she needs to. In the meantime, we need to figure out how we're going to get you guys off this dumb strip."

The man withdrew Donatello's digital binoculars, and handed them over to the purple-banded turtle. "Getting a car isn't so much a problem, but the Military has been searching practically every vehicle that comes off the strip."

While Donatello was looking at the footage Luke had inconspicuously recorded, the conversation continued.

"So are you thinking we'd be better off going on foot?" Raphael filled in.

"The perimeter looks doable to me, but you'd guys would have to be the real judge of that."

"I must say, this is where Luke and I differ in opinions," Ryan ventured. "Personally, I couldn't recommend that you try sneaking past the DGM. There's more men out there than we've been able to catch sight of - it would be an awful risk to take."

"That may be true, but you don't know what we're capable of either," Leonardo told him. "What do you think Donny?"

He handed the binoculars over to Leonardo to view the footage for himself."There are gaps Fearless," the purple-banded turtle said. "I'm pretty sure we could do it without much trouble. It would involve a little scaling, but we could use the exercise anyway, right?"

"There's another issue we'd have to deal with immediately," Luke had to mention. "We've still got the guys sitting right outside. I attempted some of my own magic already, and they're not biting. But um...I was thinking that a female type of distraction may just do the trick." He cast an apologetic look toward April.

"In other words, you want me to flirt with them," April said evenly, and then sighed. "This is going to get interesting, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable-" Luke faltered.

She shook her head immediately, already in the process of pulling out her rubber band. "I'm pretty sure I can handle it Luke, just give me a couple of minutes to get in the right frame of mind."

April ran both hands through her red-hair, and raised her eyebrows at the turtles. "What do you guys think? Am I still worthy of distraction status? God knows I'm not some perky 20-something anymore. Maybe you _should_ have let Jenna come," she finished with a chuckle.

The sight of all four brothers blushing simultaneously was such an interesting one. that no one said anything as the turtles grasped for intelligent speech. Somewhat surprisingly, Michelangelo was the first one to pull it back together.

"You're worthy Ape. You go out there and knock 'em dead. You've absolutely still got it."

When the other brothers laughed nervously, Mike broke into a wide smile too.

"Of course, you don't have to tell Marc I said so or anything."

Luke stood one step behind April as she peered out of the Gulfstream, and patted her shoulder one last time. "I'll go out there with you."

"No, I think that would do more harm than good. Relax Luke - just be prepared to shoot them if I can't get the job done," she quipped, and held out something toward him. "Hold onto this for me, will you?"

Luke accepted the ring from her hand, and exhaled deeply. "I'll be close by."

"Not too close," she reminded him. "You need to keep an eye out for the guys, they're your main concern."

As April ducked through the door, the turtles filed into position behind Luke. They'd loaded up a couple of packs with their own supplies for anything they might immediately need, and their blood was starting to pump harder already at the prospect of finding their way safely around the unfamiliar city.

They'd spent a few minutes debating back and forth the merits of staying on the plane, or taking their chances out on the strange streets. They'd been in almost complete agreement more or less, and were now waiting as Luke started in on the last minute instructions.

"So when you're out, find somewhere to hole up, but stay in contact. We're going to be following you, but I can't guarantee how long it will take us to get through security, or how much grief they're going to give us. There are a lot of people living out there - this isn't some rural setting guys. Stay out of sight, and don't even think about playing vigilante."

"Vigilante?" Ryan echoed curiously.

"Later Ryan. Now's not the time to get into it," Luke replied.


	25. New Digs

***Lest you think I'm exaggerating with all the rain...this part of Africa is one of the rainiest places on the planet. It's not called the rainforest for nothing. ;)**

**

* * *

**Sneaking off the air strip itself was almost child's play for the four turtles, who easily melded their own forms to appear as one with the shadows, and had to deal with little more than an electrified fence to get to the other side of freedom. Donatello had to sacrifice a couple of his shock absorbers that he'd clamped to the fence to interrupt the flow of electricity, but it was for a worthy cause.

They'd slipped silently through a neighborhood nearby, made up of what looked like mostly one room dwellings, before running into a section of actual storefronts and apartment buildings. Donatello was hesitating on top of one now, rubbing his eyes a little wearily to remove trailing rain drops from the showers that had been pursuing them. Leonardo and Michelangelo had already made the leap to the roof across from him, a feat they'd been taking one at a time over the uncertain surfaces.

The distance itself wasn't impressive, but the purple-masked turtle still felt the necessity to glance below before attempting it. There were still people on the street at this hour, some on foot while others were on bicycles, seemingly in no hurry to get anywhere. Time was a luxury they appeared to have in droves. He inhaled slightly before making the jump, eager to get out of the way before Raphael got sick of waiting for him to go.

The purple-masked turtle landed nimbly on the slanted surface, but he wasn't ready for the tile to shift underneath him. He fought to regain his balance, but his legs were out of his immediate control. The turtle landed hard on his side, and the sheer force of his own weight sent him sprawling over the edge to a lower level of the roof.

Donatello grappled to catch ahold of something, the slippery roofing tiles providing zero traction for him to grip with his fingers. As he plummeted backwards, a sharp jerk around his neck startled him, as his cloak caught the corner of the ledge he'd just fallen from. It slowed his descent by a fraction of seconds, and he scrambled helplessly in that upside-down position to catch himself on something else.

There were arms suddenly underneath him, unexpectedly supporting his shell. He was so tangled up in the material of his cloak, that he couldn't even see what had stopped his disastrous stumble.

"I've gotcha Donny, don't struggle!" his red-masked brother urged him, as Donatello gasped anxiously.

"I'm caught," Donatello replied tightly, as Raphael stretched on his tip-toes to relieve some of the pressure of his brother's weight off the captured cloak, that was barely clinging to the edge of the building.

"Raph, have you got him?" Leonardo's voice carried from above them, as loudly as the blue-masked turtle dared.

"Yeah Fearless, he ain't going anywhere!"

"Donny, I'm going to cut you loose! Raph's right there with you, he won't let you fall," Leonardo said very calmly.

The purple-masked turtle stayed completely still, confident in the fact that he was safe in their hands. Raphael guided him down carefully from the backwards position he'd been trapped in, lowering him to the roof on both feet. The red-banded turtle didn't let go of him until he was certain Donatello was alright crouching on the roof, and even then remained within inches of his shell.

"Are you all right Genius? Did you hit anything?"

"No Raph, I'm fine...I think. Thanks a lot."

"Are you sure?" Raphael persisted. "You hit pretty hard."

Before Donatello had time to answer, Leonardo had landed on the lower level beside the two of them.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry Leo. I completely lost it," the purple-masked turtle said meekly.

"Well, I guess you're going to have to make sure you get some _sleep _tonight Donny," Leonardo replied, with just enough of a teasing tone so that it didn't come off like lecturing. "Nice catch Raph. I think it's time we headed down, the material up here isn't the most stable surface on the planet."

"I couldn't agree more," Raphael added, before casting a glance down at the street, several feet beneath them.

They didn't have direct access to the ground, but the very building they were perched upon seemed so run down that it looked abandoned, as if no one had done any maintenance on it in years. Donatello caught the red-masked turtle's somewhat probing glance, and nodded himself.

"It doesn't look like it's been touched for some time, at least, there's no electricity running to it in any case. It might not be structurally sound."

"We'll have to watch our step, but it's probably the best place to stop," Leonardo said assertively. "It'd be nice to get out of this rain anyway."

"Why wasn't I invited to this party?" Michelangelo suddenly called from above them.

"'Cause you got too far ahead numbskull," Raphael shot in return. "Bring your shell on down, we're heading into this building."

"Mike, wait!" Donatello cut in before the orange-masked turtle could move. "Let a couple of us get inside first, we shouldn't risk putting the weight of all four of us on this ridge."

"Donny, if you think I need a diet, just say so," the youngest turtle chuckled.

Raphael rolled his eyes at Donatello, and then honed in on an already cracked window. The red-masked turtle brought all of his force behind the handle of one of his sai, and finished the job of breaking the glass. He took a few seconds longer to clear remaining jagged shards, and then ducked his own frame through the window.

"Raph, take a light." Leonardo urged, and shoved a flashlight from his bag into his brother's waiting hand.

The red-masked turtle handled his weight carefully on the floor, as he tried to make certain that it would support him. He flashed the beam across the cavernous room, laying eyes on a number of bugs, but nothing actually worth mentioning. "C'mon you guys, it looks clear," he said over his shoulder. Raphael took a couple more halting steps forward, gripping his light in one hand, and one of his sai tightly in the other.

Donatello ducked inside next, and shrugged out of his own bag to find his flashlight. He joined Raphael in the sweep of the room, and then made straight for a doorway that seemed to be leading off of it. From the remnants of debris in the hallway, he could surmise that no one had lived there for quite some time. As he returned to the room, he walked in on all three of his brothers taking off rain-soaked gear.

Michelangelo cast a glance back at the window Raphael had broken, and grinned widely. "Think we should leave a note?"

"To say what, 'Jambo'?" Raphael snorted. "That's the only African word I've got down so far."

"Let's stay together, and get a better look around," Leonardo suggested.

* * *

"...Go three more blocks, and you should see it on your left Doc," Donatello assured the man over the cell-phone. "We'll be watching for her...No Luke, we'll be okay. You've gotta do, what you've gotta do...Uh huh. We'll go wait there."

The purple-masked turtle hung up the phone, and looked at his expectant brothers. "They're close by. Luke's going to drop April off, and go back to the strip to stay with the others on the Gulfstream. They don't want to leave the plane unattended, I guess it's been getting weird attention."

"They touch that plane, and we're gonna have to introduce some Africans to ninja turtles," Raphael said angrily. "And if they hold onto Heff much longer, they're _definitely _gonna meet one!"

"Raph, you know we can't do anything." Leonardo tried to stay patient. "The men have to stay visible and legal. We have to let the others handle this."

"No harm in sayin' I'd like to," Raphael growled in return.

"So anyway," Donatello interjected. "We need to watch for April, because she'll be here soon."

The turtles had taken up residence on the first floor of the old apartment building after working their way down from the top, and Donatello and Raphael headed over to a side window, which would give them a partial view of the street. Once they were clear of the others, Raphael's arm unexpectedly found Donatello's shoulder.

"That was a little close up there Donny."

"I know, I'm lucky you were there," he replied seriously, fighting off the small smile that threatened at his brother's unusual display of affection.

Raphael gave him a parting pat as they caught sight of a nearing vehicle. They waited a few seconds to catch a visual on April, and then Donatello flashed the beam of his flashlight so she would know where to go. The red-masked turtle reached through the open window to help the woman get inside, pulling her off the ground as if she weighed no more than a feather.

The two turtles showed her to where Leonardo and Mike had cleared out a small corner, and they started to settle in for the night.

"So, how was your date?" Raphael couldn't resist asking finally.

April shot the turtle an extremely dirty look. "Don't make me hurt you." Then she glanced around at the others to include them again. "This is some place you guys rustled up."

"Donny just stumbled onto it," Raphael volunteered, earning himself a dirty look from _another_ direction that time.

April shuddered slightly as if cold, though the actual temperature made that hard to believe. "It's been a rough few days guys. I can't tell you how glad I am to be here with you, instead of back in Mbandaka by myself."

"We're glad you're here too April," Leonardo said quickly. "I just wish everything wasn't so messed up. This latest entanglement is the last thing we needed."

Donatello had been fiddling with his scanner as he leaned against the wall, reassuring himself with Marcus' vital statistics again. "We're a lot closer to Marc than we were this morning," he pointed out. "We'll get there guys. If I know Kat, she's got something up her sleeve for helping Heff get out of this."

April nodded as if listening, but didn't say anything. Leonardo latched onto the silent moment to change the subject slightly.

"What about this girl April, his translator? She's going to know about us before this is all over with. What's she like?"

"Her name's Rebecca," the woman clarified. "She's smart, kind of quiet...very passionate about this country. She's a good girl guys, a _really_ good girl."

April's expression was suddenly so sad, that it made Donatello cock his head, and put the scanner down.

"What is it April?" he had to ask.

"I've just been thinking," she answered softly. "We're all desperate to find Marcus. You guys are risking your own lives, probably more than you ever have. You crossed the ocean to get here. But Rebecca..." The woman trailed off, now on the verge of tears.

Michelangelo leaned over, grazing her shoulder lightly. "What about her?"

"I don't think she _has_anybody," April finally said. "She only left one contact number with the organization, and I called her grandparents to let them know she was missing before the media broke the story. Do you want to know what her grandfather said to me? He told me Rebecca was dead to them, something to do with all of her 'foolishness' about the Congo. He literally said he didn't care what happened to her, that none of them did."

The turtles didn't know what to say to that, so no one said anything right away. After a few seconds, April continued.

"She grew up here as a missionary's kid, with her parents and an older sister. They spent almost the girls' entire lives in Africa. Then she was forced to return to the US about three years ago for some reason, and has been fighting to come back here full-time. I have this feeling that something happened to her parents and sister, that they're not around anymore. There was no contact info, and she's never talked about them in the present tense, as in anything they're doing right now."

April paused for another long moment. "It's heart-breaking to think that people could treat their own family that way, but especially someone like Rebecca...You guys just have to meet her. She's an amazing person, so genuinely moved by the plight of other people. It's as if their cause, their suffering is the only thing that drives her.

When you first look at her, she just appears as this pensive girl, wrapped up tightly in a protective shell. You can tell there's a lot going on in there, but you'd be hard-pressed to find out what it is. Then you get her out here among these people, speaking their languages like she's one of them, and all the life inside of her comes out."

April sniffed and wiped away a tear, now focusing hard on the floor. "They say there's often more to someone than meets the eye. She fits that description perfectly."


	26. Cassiterite

The sun was nowhere near its' zenith, but Marcus was already soaked in sweat. They'd been climbing higher steadily throughout the morning, still without any idea of where they were actually being taken. Rebecca had told him that she had a strong feeling they were on the way to one of the mining colonies, judging from the mountain that was rising above them in the distance. The young woman had just cast another glance over her shoulder at him, and took the same moment to adjust the multi-colored bandana to wipe moisture from her own forehead.

"Are you holding up okay?" she asked.

He nodded, but couldn't stop gazing past her at the massive rock growing out of the earth beyond them. "Please tell me we're not going to have to climb that thing Becky."

"I can't say for certain Marc. These mines are usually cut out of the sides - so it's likely we won't need to go anywhere near the top of it."

"We can always hope I suppose." Marcus sighed.

They fell back into silence to continue the march, putting their focus back on the necessary effort it took to slog through the muddy path. The sound of approaching steps on the footpath they were traveling made Marcus stiffen. Within a few more seconds several figures appeared in front of them, but then quickly stepped to the side so that the rebels' band could pass first.

Marcus glanced at the men curiously as they went by, and realized they were no more than teenagers. Loose-fitting shorts and boots were their only uniform of choice, and each had a burlap sack either over a shoulder, or resting on the ground beside them. He found the sight of them somewhat confusing, and glanced Rebecca's direction questioningly.

She nodded as if she understood what he wanted to know. "They're probably porters, carrying minerals down from the mountain."

"They're young," Marcus said in soft awe, though it wasn't completely surprising. She'd already told him that workers could range much younger than even the boys they'd just passed by.

As the band was reaching the outskirts of the deeper rainforest, they came upon an odd-looking booth set up by the side of the path, with what was presumably a cook tending to a large pot. Marcus looked at Rebecca yet again, as a couple of the men in their company stopped to get food from the station. "What is this, their version of fast food?"

Rebecca almost laughed. "In a way, yes. They have kiosks like these set-up so that the workers can buy food."

Marcus noticed the cook eyeing Rebecca curiously, and the young woman stepped up to him before anyone else could tell her not to move. She exchanged a few soft words with him, and nodded her thanks to the stranger, before returning to Marcs' side.

"The young men, they're hauling cassiterite rocks. They've come from a tin mine."

This was a rather anticlimactic revelation to Marcus, and it must have been easily readable from his expression, because she quickly went on.

"In 2004, the US Government passed legislation that banned the use of lead in electronics. Manufacturers were forced to make a switch to using _tin _for the process of soldering their parts together, and the DRC supplies a third of the worlds' resources."

"Is there any mineral this country doesn't supply?"

Rebecca shook her head sadly at the question. "It ought to be one of the richest countries on the planet - instead, its' people are some of the poorest. Tell me there's nothing wrong with this picture."

Marcus nodded his agreement, as they stepped out into direct sunlight for the first time that day. Now they were able to catch an unobstructed view of the mountain, which had been stripped of all its' trees over the years for the sole purpose of the mining operation. Marcus squinted hard at the side of the rock, and thought he could see what kind of looked like ant-holes from the ground, carved out of the face of it.

The sun beat down on them with a fierce vengeance as they continued to climb, and Marc was starting to feel more sluggish in the heat. The man directly behind him was prodding him more insistently as he slowed down, and kept a firm arm against his back to make certain that he didn't stop. When Marcus stumbled he was there to catch him, out of irritation more than actual support.

Marc's legs felt heavy and uncooperative in a way he couldn't remember feeling that strongly before. The next time he was heaved forward by his captor, he couldn't keep his balance with the motion, and fell to his knees. Hot shame filled him as he thought about those teenage boys, carrying their own loads of material up and down this mountain. He couldn't even support his own feeble weight.

Arms began dragging him upright once more, as the familiar face of Ajamu circled back around the group to discover the source of the issue that had started slowing them all down. The African spoke sharply to the man who'd been "handling" him, and the rebel begrudgingly allowed Marcus to stay on the ground and rest for that instant. Marc didn't know _what_to think when the rebel offered his canteen to him, but Rebecca swiftly spoke up to explain.

"Take it Marcus, get down as much water as they'll let you have. They don't want you collapsing on them. How does your chest feel?"

He swallowed water deeply before responding. "It's okay, I'm just _hot_. I feel like a giant wimp out here."

"The heat is harder on people who aren't conditioned to it," she told him gently. "You've got to speak up to me if you feel something strange. Otherwise, they'll just keep pushing you as hard as they have been."

Marcus swallowed yet again, and shuffled to his own feet. "It's all right. I'm ready to go."

"Take more time if you need it."

"I doubt they have much patience for it Becky. It'll be fine."

The rebel's band followed a path that led around the side of the mountain, and it took them another forty minutes to reach the center of the mining project. Marcus blinked hard when he first saw it, barely knowing where to focus first. The atmosphere was about as hectic a scene as he'd ever witnessed before, as he watched shirtless men criss-crossing paths from different directions. The odd picture reminded him of every disaster movie he'd ever seen, where spontaneous looting would break out at the first sign of the end of the world.

They were carrying loads of rocks and different hand-tools, entering and exiting various tunnels. The tunnels themselves seemed like they were too close together, almost on top of each other in places. To the side of the runners children were sitting in the dust, sifting through the powdered remains of rocks in buckets to search out the precious shiny pieces.

Several makeshift shelters were erected across the site using nothing more than wooden poles and plastic sheeting, providing places for workers to occasionally eat and rest, though it didn't appear they did very much of either. The entire operation looked so fragile to Marcs' eyes, that it seemed a good gust of wind could blow everything off the mountain.

He and Rebecca were prodded toward a muddy footbridge, by all appearances on their way to one of the shafts. They received looks from every man and child they passed, the same curious stare seeming to fill every pair of eyes that took them in.

"Do you know what we're doing?" Marcus asked Rebecca softly.

"I think we're going inside Marc," she replied evenly. "I can't say why."

They were marched past workers in the mouth of the tunnel, carrying what definitely looked like dynamite. There were no hard-hats here, no safety equipment of any kind. They only tools that Marcus noticed being used were a series of mallets, metal spikes, and arm loads of the explosives.

The coolness of the shaft was a welcome change to the beating sun, but Marcus still found himself trembling at the uncertainty of what was going to happen. The sound of muffled explosions from deeper underground met his ears, and made him feel even more nervous. He judged that they'd traveled around twenty-five feet before the darkness around them was complete, like the blackest night he'd ever witnessed.

The rhythmic pounding of sledgehammer against rock met them now as well, as the entire company pulled to a halt in the faint glimmer of light that was provided by a few head-lamps among them. Marcus thought he heard Rebecca talking to someone, and in the dim light he saw the outline of a man bent over against the side of the shaft, sorting through a pile of rubble.

She straightened up after a couple of minutes, and told him what they'd been talking about. "They have to create cavities in the cassiterite, and then they use dynamite to detonate it from the inside, so they can extract the mineral."

"Sounds extremely safe," Marcus remarked dryly, and then held his breath as one of the sources of light came toward him and Rebecca.

The rebel took them each by one arm, and drew them deeper inside of the tunnel, to where the shaft was starting to slightly widen out. An explosion closer by rocked the ground beneath them, and made Marcus sway in his step. He faltered only for an instant before starting to walk again. Ahead he could make out the forms of several more shadows, what turned out to be a number of men and teenagers lining the walls.

Marcus was trying to determine whether they were simply taking a break, when someone's light illuminated one of them enough for him to realize that the teenager was injured, with the entire right side of his forehead covered in dried blood. The doctor held in a gasp and remained silent, as the rebel who'd been guiding them spoke to Rebecca.

She listened without nodding or making so much as a sound herself, taking in every syllable as if it were of utmost importance. When she finally turned to Marcus, he was dying to find out what was going on. "There was a cave-in not from here, two days ago. They recovered these fourteen who were yet living, and now they all need medical attention."

"Why did they leave them in here?" Marcus demanded angrily. "They could done _something_ for them other than chuck them into a tunnel!"

"They didn't want the investors to see their injuries, and it also sounds like they don't want them to see _us_."

"Becky, these conditions are deplorable. If they want these men and boys to be healthy, we have to get them out of here. I wouldn't even know where to start in this setting, I'd hardly be able to see the root of their injuries!"

Rebecca tentatively relayed his reply to the man commanding them, and the African shook his head sharply before answering her.

"He says you must begin here Marcus - that the foreign investors will be gone in the next day or so. Only then will these men be allowed outside the tunnel, as well as the two of us." She translated.

Marcus sighed heavily. "I need light - I need all the light we have available. Water too, and some of it needs to be hot somehow. Can we get any help from these idiots standing around?"

Rebecca made his request, but wisely refrained from calling them idiots to the African's face. "They'll give us some aid Marcus, and I'll do everything I can to help you too."

"We need to search each one, find out who's the worst off injury wise. Then we'll just start there," Marcus said, already feeling overwhelmed.

This wasn't going to be easy _or _sanitary. He exhaled sharply, wincing at the familiar tightness in his chest that was a sure sign of an environmental trigger for his asthma. Marcus didn't have time to think about it; there were too many others who'd been suffering for far too long.

* * *

** *If you enjoy, pretty please review! It makes an author's day, and it reminds us that we're not on our own little island in the ocean of fan-fiction. Also, happy authors post faster. So I've been told.**


	27. Vulnerability

Seemingly against all odds, Greg had been released from custody late that afternoon. The turtles had spent the night and the entirety of the day holed up inside the apartment building with April, receiving frequent frustrating news from Luke and Tim. That was, until they got another fateful phone call from the States.

"So the Queen of Bull still lives." Leonardo couldn't keep the smile out of his voice as he addressed Katherine. "You've gotta tell me how you did it."

"You already know the answer to that Leo. Everyone has a weakness, some kind of vulnerability. All you have to do is expose it, and things can happen faster than you even dreamed they could," she replied.

"For real Kat. How'd you_ talk _him out of there, without Luke even having to pay some other huge bribe to the authorities?"

"Did you know that there are currently 20,000 peacekeeping troops from the United Nations stationed in the DRC? The Congolese government is ready for them go. Their president has petitioned the UN to start pulling their troops out as early as the end of this month, through the beginning of next year. Victoria supplied me with some key names on the counsel, and I threatened to make it my personal mission to campaign _against _the removal of said troops from their country. I could easily have cited the very real instability that remains. I made it clear I would be quoting the current circumstances surrounding Marc and Rebecca disappearance, as well as the abuse of power at the expense of the team attempting to rescue them. I have the names of officials in Immigration at Kisangani, and I promised that their identities would come up in the course of my campaign to keep the troops stationed in the DRC indefinitely. It was mostly a bluff of course, not to say I wouldn't have attempted it. I don't know if I could have really gotten an audience with the UN, but the officials at the airport were really only after the bribe, and didn't want to risk bringing that trouble on their heads."

Leonardo laughed. "Kat, there are times when I seriously think you should have finished law school. Nobody talks faster than you do."

"It would have been a very unsatisfying life for me Leonardo. You know, there's actually some other girl here who'd like to talk to you too," She finished teasingly.

"Who's that, Reina?" the blue-banded turtle cracked in return.

"Yeah Leo, my three month old is dying to have a conversation with you," Katherine said in mock exasperation. "I'm talking about someone a little older, and she's getting impatient."

"Then I suggest you give her the phone Kat."

Calley's voice was the next thing he heard. "Hey Leo."

Leonardo felt an unexpected twinge of longing as soon as he heard her voice. She sounded a little shyer than normal, but no less happy to be talking to him.

"Hi...how's it going at home? You girls holding up okay?"

"Yeah, we're doing fine. Can't stop thinking about you though. Time is passing so slowly, it seems like a day goes on and on."

"I know that feeling," Leonardo replied. "That's about how long it feels like we've been waiting to get our shells out of here. I've been thinking about you too."

The blue-masked turtle stood suddenly, intentionally separating himself from the others. He contemplated his words carefully as he meandered slowly across the floor, with the phone still pressed to his ear. Before he came up with what he really wanted to say, Calley went on herself.

"I hate the feeling like I'm being all clingy or something, but this is harder than I thought it'd be," she admitted. "I've had a lot of things running through my head, some stuff that I've been waiting to tell you. But I didn't want to do it like this," Calley fumbled slightly, her embarrassment evident even over the phone.

"You can go ahead and say it Calley, because I love you too," Leonardo said almost casually, before he could talk himself out of it.

Her startled laugh on the other end made him wish he could see her face, and wonder if saying it over the phone the first time had been the right way to go.

"You took the words out my mouth Leo."

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to steal your thunder," he said a little tongue-in-cheek.

It was so easy to picture the woman in his mind, the tousled blond hair that had to be falling across her forehead, nearly covering one eye as it usually did. Those brown eyes that could pierce right through him faster than anyone else ever had, save his Sensei alone.

"I _do_ love you," she acknowledged, laughing somewhat anxiously as her voice broke a little. "I wish I was with you."

"You will be Calley, we'll be home before you know it. Donny's got a good fix on Marc, and we've got a local guide of sorts. Now that Greg's been released, we can finally get moving again. Hang in there, and keep supporting Kat and the baby. We'll talk again soon, I promise."

* * *

Everyone was reunited in Kisangani that night for the first time in over 24 hours. Greg had insisted that he was up for leaving immediately, but Kirkland's information had quickly shattered that idea.

"The airport in Beni is one of the most rustic ones in the country Greg," Ryan explained. "I'm talking no pavement, and no lights of any kind. It's just a dirt strip - that's all. You don't really want to be having to land there at night."

An irritated Greg had been forced to concede the point, and everyone settled in for another night in the abandoned building. A full-on strategy session had been taking place with maps and coordinates based off of Marcs' movement that day, but it had eventually been laid to rest for the sake of everyone getting necessary sleep.

It still wasn't coming easily for everyone. Michelangelo had been propped up partially against his bag for the last hour, lying adjacent to Brandon on the hard concrete. The orange-masked turtle fidgeted for the fifth time in ten minutes, and Brandon sat up partway on his arm to look at him.

"It's so weird to be this tired, and still unable to sleep," the man said aloud quietly.

"No kidding - you're the one who stood on sentry duty over the plane last night. I can only imagine how much fun _that_ was," Michelangelo returned impishly.

"Oh, tons," Brandon said sarcastically. "After awhile, I started having one-sided conversations with the soldiers, just to pass the time."

"What did you talk about?" Mike had to ask.

The man chuckled. "Do you know that it's still entertaining to make fun of someone, even when they don't know what you're saying? Particularly if you say it in the nicest possible way. I was trying to play alphabetical insults, but I never realized how hard that is to keep up by yourself."

"Where'd you get stuck?"

"I blanked out on 'Q', gave up altogether."

"That's no way to play the game, you quirky quitting Quasimodo."

"Now see? Where were you last night?"

"Forget about last night Brandon, I'm schooling you right now, you ridiculously rancid roach-eater." Michelangelo held out his hands imploringly when Brandon didn't respond immediately. "You're _thinking_ about it too much - they're not supposed to make sense. Say the first thing that pops into your head, just let it flow."

"You have to give me a second. I didn't grow up with three brothers, you superfluously sordid Sasquatch."

"_Nice_ Bran, but I should tell ya that using words the other guy doesn't know is generally considered to be hitting below the belt." Michelangelo chuckled a little too loudly that time.

"I just can't win with you, can I?" Brandon replied.

"_Shut it _you tacky trash-talking trolls, before I have a tangent all over your tails," Raphael growled out of the darkness nearby. "That's right, game over."

Brandon tried very hard to keep a snort under his breath, so that the red-masked turtle wouldn't hear it. "Has he always been this cranky?"

"Only as long as I've known him," Michelangelo replied.

"I'll show you cranky when I shove my foot up yo-"

"Raph," Leonardo interrupted his brother authoritatively, and then sat up to throw a glance in Mike and Brandon's direction. "Guys, we have to be up in like four hours. Can we please get some quiet in here?"

* * *

It was still early evening back in the United States, and the girls were starting to feel the full weight of restlessness. Having none of the guys around was an extremely unusual circumstance. Not that the women didn't enjoy each other; things just felt empty and quiet without the others present. Jenna and Karina hadn't even bothered with going back underground, except to gather things that they needed. They'd been staying with Kat in the loft, and it turned out to be an experience the woman was thoroughly enjoying, even if she was a little tired of being taken care of.

Jenna was currently taking her own turn holding Reina, cooing softly at the baby to get her to smile at her. "Could her eyes get anymore beautiful?"

Katherine nodded approvingly. "She's her Daddy's girl - she looks so much like Luke. I keep getting the feeling that she's waiting for him to walk in the door."

"They definitely form bonds," Victoria offered. "I'm sure she _does_ miss her Daddy. She probably recognizes that he hasn't been around, almost as much as we feel it ourselves." As Victoria spoke, she lightly ruffled Jenna's dark hair from behind the woman. "I bet you were a beautiful baby too," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Jenna shook her head at the statement. "That will always have to remain a theory."

"I may not be your real mother Jen, but I still have a good imagination," Victoria pointed out.

Jenna shifted a little awkwardly on the couch, and flashed her a forced smile. "Will you take her for me Mom? I need to get something."

Victoria accepted Reina after Jenna had gotten to her feet, and the young woman wandered toward the kitchen. She held the refrigerator door open for a few seconds, and absent-mindedly selected a bottled water. She wasn't really thirsty, but it was a reason to excuse herself for a minute. She closed the door with her hip and hesitated in the kitchen, leaning over the island to watch the others interacting in the open living space.

After she put the bottle down, her fingers came to rest on a familiar medallion, whose weight she'd born for years growing up. It was the only thing she had left of her real father, and it was also the one token she'd gifted to a certain turtle upon their first parting. He rarely went without it, but Donatello had intentionally left it with her for safe-keeping while they were gone. The memory of almost losing it entirely in Dayton was still a little too fresh for him, and he hadn't wanted to risk traipsing through the rainforest with it.

She smiled slightly to herself as she pictured his gaze, the eyes that had pulled her in like a magnet with their expressive vulnerability. For all his physical strength and abilities, the purple-masked turtle's nature and level of sensitivity always left her feeling protective inside. It was an absurd thought to imagine that she could protect him, but she'd never escaped the desire to try.

Jenna sighed a little heavily as she hoped that they were safe tonight, wherever they were staying in the strange city. _They'll take care of each other, they always do_, she assured herself inwardly, and replaced the medallion against her skin._ But getting left behind still sucks_.


	28. Weakness & Watching

Rebecca was worried. She'd been worried when the cough first took root in Marcus during their twenty hour stay in the mine, and she was even _more_worried when leaving the confined spaces' poor quality of air seemed to do him little good. He'd used his rescue inhaler a number of times that day with only partial success. Rebecca could hear him even now, rustling uncomfortably on the ground in between coughing, unable to rest regardless of how difficult the day had been.

The two of them were attempting to sleep under one of the simple tarps that was propped up on the side of the mountain, but neither were actually getting anywhere. At least their armed guard was responsible for staying awake, and therefore hadn't given them a hard time about keeping _him _up. Rebecca felt like she'd been lying there for hours, when she finally sat up stiffly on the ground.

"Marc," she said softly. "Talk to me. What's going on with you?"

"I'm sorry I'm keeping you up," was his only reply.

"That isn't what I asked you."

The man was taking intentionally shallow breaths, and pausing for extended periods in between to try and help his body regulate against the constricting airway. "I'll be all right Becky," he told her with more certainty than she believed.

"Your medicine isn't helping," she asserted.

"The attack isn't over," Marc replied. "They can last hours...days."

"And what happens if they try to put you back in that mine again?"

"I made it through today," he pointed out, as if it had been no big deal to require the inhaler that many times.

"Marcus, don't treat me like I'm a little girl. What if something happens to you? What if you collapse and no one knows what to do? You have to tell me what's happening here."

"I can breathe," he assured her, "It's just hard, and it isn't getting any easier." His voice contained a tinge of anger that she wasn't prepared for, and he seemed to realize at once how he was coming across. "Of all the things that could be going through my mind right now, do you wanna hear my stupidity?"

"I have a hard time believing it's stupid."

"My Dad's going to assume that he was right all along," Marcus stated bitterly. "My whole life, he's underestimated me physically, always told me what I couldn't do. Even the officials running Doctors without Borders weren't sure if I could handle this. Right about now, it feels like all of them were right."

"No," Rebecca whispered fiercely. "That's not true. You're perfectly capable of doing what you set out to do. These idiots have forced you into unusual circumstances, pushed you into doing unnatural things. You even found ways to cope and control the stress. What's happening here isn't a reflection on your weakness Marc. Your drive to keep going, and to keep putting others ahead of yourself in spite of your own present issues...it proves to me that you're _not _weak. Don't ever let anyone make you feel like you are."

* * *

With the assurance that the officials at Kisangani wouldn't be giving them any more trouble, the "rescue team" had piled into the rented van to get them back to the airstrip early that morning. They wanted to leave under the cover of darkness, to maintain the extra level of security for the turtles. Everyone breathed much easier when Greg had them off the ground, with only about 300 miles to fly before they would reach Beni. They'd chosen to go to that city because it contained the closest airport to the recent activity on Marcs' transmitter.

Kirkland's questions had been getting more concise over their last day together, as he tried to determine what their intentions would be once they tracked Marcus down. "What's the eventual plan here?" Ryan ventured with a glance at the bodies closest to him. "I'm not intending to pry, but I can be of more service if I'm aware of what's going on."

Tim was the first one to respond. "You realize by now that we have to do things our own way, though you probably don't know how effectively we're capable of acting." He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the four turtles behind them, and then looked at Ryan again. "You've heard of Navy Seals, Special Forces? That's sort of what you're dealing with here. The turtles didn't come with us just for the heck of it, believe me. The skills they used to sneak off the airstrip the other night? That was nothing. They're highly trained ninja, and they're good at what they do. I want you to try and recall what it was like being captured in the woods by Leonardo, the fear you felt in that moment. Now picture being on the _real _receiving end of their wrath.

You've gotten to know them a little bit, enough to see them interact, to see them at rest. You have yet to witness what they're actually capable of when the rubber meets the road."

It was true - Kirkland had been paying special attention to the turtles, and observing weaponry that had so far been sheathed, except when Leonardo had first discovered him watching in the woods. Ryan cast another glance behind him to include the turtles in the discussion that he and Tim were having. "Then my impression that you intend to take on these rebels without outside assistance is correct."

"We _have_ to work alone," Leonardo stated. "We've got no choice but to operate under strategy and stealth."

"You've done this kind of thing before?"

"We have, though this time is unique in many ways," Leonardo allowed. "We're accustomed to having more information about our enemies than this. It's an uncomfortable feeling to be going into this so blindly, _and_ to be forced to deal with so many guns," he finished distastefully.

"You don't like guns?"

"Hate them with a passion," the blue-banded turtle said flatly. "But it won't be the first time we've had to work around them."

"Then the four of you don't plan to arm yourselves?"

"You've seen our weapons already," Raphael said gruffly. "Let me be the one to tell you: we don't need a freakin' gun to beat somebody."

"I believe that, but the men we're going up against-"

"We?" Brandon interrupted from his other side.

"I hope you don't think I came along for the heck of it either," Ryan said swiftly. "Whatever the plan of attack, I was hoping to have a part in it."

"That's funny - I thought you came along because we didn't give you a choice in the matter," Luke said dryly.

"I'm trying to tell you that I'm willing to go to whatever length is needed. However far this ends up going, I'll follow you to the end of it," Kirkland proclaimed, his own irritation finally emerging. "You didn't_ ask _for me to be a part of this, I get that. But now I'm here, and I want to help. Would you at least do me the kindness of hearing what I have to say?"

No one answered, and Kirkland took that as his cue to go on. "The elevation of Marcs' coordinates is indicative of hill country. They've probably been united with a larger band of men than they were originally traveling with. This isn't some 'fly by night' crew, acting on a silly whim. They're seasoned soldiers, who've been resisting the government for a long time. As such, they possess many types of weaponry, not limited to hand-held munitions. With the proximity they have with Beni, they probably have a strong standing supply of heavy artillery."

"What does Beni have to do with them?" Brandon wanted to know.

"There are troops from India stationed there, on loan from the United Nations. What that translates to, is that the rebels are more than prepared for a fire-fight if it comes to it."

"Our goal would be to avoid that," Leonardo said firmly. "To strike silently and fade into the night, that's the ninja's way."

Kirkland twisted in his seat to face the turtles behind him. Their expressions couldn't have been more different from one another. Leonardo seemed pensive, as if his gaze was searching out some matter that was yet beyond physical sight. The red-masked one seemed impatient, but he was fighting to deal with it silently, instead of openly complaining. Michelangelo appeared eager, his blue eyes reading of the anticipation that lingered in his spirit. Donatello's glance disturbed Kirkland somewhat, though he wasn't really sure why.

The purple-masked turtle hadn't spoken for some time, nor had he taken a hand off the machine that served as their link with Dr. Sloan and Rebecca. The lines etched in his forehead spoke of anxiety, and it confused Ryan. His brothers were clearly ready for whatever confrontation was ahead of them and this odd one out struck Kirkland as strange

Ryan wasn't the only one who'd picked up on the turtle's behavior. The doctor sitting beside the purple-masked turtle was studying him too.

"Donny, what do you keep looking at on there?" Luke asked him pointedly.

A look that almost resembled guilt flashed through his brown eyes, before shifting to the floor. "I'm just keeping an eye on things," he mumbled, his voice hardly discernible.

"What things?" Luke pressed.

Here Leonardo turned to face his younger brother as well. "Yeah Donny, what things? Are his coordinates still ranging in the same vicinity?"

Donatello's head bobbed lightly. "There hasn't been much of a variance for the last twenty-four hours."

"Then what's eating at you?" Michelangelo joined the conversation. "Is there something wrong? 'Cause you're acting like you don't want to tell us."

Donatello's swift glance at the orange-masked turtle indicated that he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Let me have it Donny," Luke requested with quiet insistency, and the turtle wordlessly handed the scanner over to him.

The purple-masked turtle retained a somewhat blank expression, while the doctor sifted through the vital information that was available from Marc's implant. After a few seconds, he looked up at Donatello sharply.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

"I was going to Doc, I just wasn't in a big rush. There's absolutely nothing we can do from here."

"_What _can't we do?" Raphael cut in. "What's going on Genius? What are you hiding on that thing?"

Luke turned slowly to look at April across from them, choosing to address her carefully. "Marcus is in respiratory distress. It's been going on for a prolonged period, and hasn't remotely lifted in the last few hours."

"What does that mean?" Brandon asked.

"It could mean a lot of things. He's probably having an extended attack of some kind, that either isn't responding to medication well, or he doesn't have access to them. It means we need to find him."

* * *

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	29. Ituri

***I know what some of you must be thinking, and let me assure you, this really is a Mikey-centric fic. It's coming people, trust me. We're not even half-way through...but the action _will _be coming to a head here pretty soon. If you think you know where I'm going...well, you'll just have to keep reading to find out.**

* * *

"...I don't understand why you're making us wear these Doc," Raphael complained, as he shifted under the uncomfortable weight of the forest green cloak. "I mean, the four of us are walking around with the best natural camouflage in this dang jungle."

"It isn't about camouflage Raph - it's about mosquitoes." Luke sounded as if he was trying to stay patient. "I'm not going to try and tell you the number of diseases they carry around here. I don't know how many could even be communicable to you guys, but I don't want to find out the hard way."

Donatello nodded his agreement, even though he understood where Raphael was coming from. The heat and humidity were incredibly oppressive, like a blanket already lying on top of them. Add another layer on top of that, and he identified with the red-masked turtle's complaint easily. "He's right Raph. There are a lot of elements out here that we've never been exposed to before, and it's safer for us to cut down on the number of opportunities that insects have to infiltrate us."

There had been very little time spent inside the city of Beni - only long enough for the men to procure a couple of Jeeps, and top off some needed supplies. The group had decided not to waste time waiting to see how Marcs' signal would track today, but headed directly into the wild of the Ituri forest to begin the real process of chasing. Kirkland was proving to be invaluable with the way he was able to communicate with some of the locals who spoke French, and the information he could bring them back about the region.

"There's a mining colony due north of here," Ryan volunteered, as he hesitated beside a map. "I asked some of the Peacekeepers about it. They said that it's a legal operation, but it's definitely being controlled by rebel hands. Judging from the elevation he's retained...I'd say it's pretty likely that's where they're at."

Donatello lowered a pencil over a certain portion of the map thoughtfully. "This is where the change in elevation started picking up a couple of days ago. I think we should try following the same track."

Ryan's nerves were suddenly obvious to the purple-masked turtle. "We're on quite shaky standing here, you need to understand that," Kirkland said. "Even the Peacekeepers don't like to travel into the rebels' territory. Beni is kind of their last stronghold, at least in a mental sense."

"And _you_ need to understand that we're not going into this haphazardly," Leonardo assured him. "We won't jump into battle with the first sign of life that we run across. We'll perform surveillance, we'll move in quietly, and we'll be on the alert for anything that moves or breathes. We may take some risks that people would consider suicidal, but we don't take them lightly. They're very much calculated and considered moves."

"There's something else I'm curious about," Ryan mentioned, looking at Donatello once more. "How on earth do you have so much knowledge about his physical condition?"

"The implanted device that Marc has isn't just a means for tracking him," the turtle replied. "Luke and I designed the chips with some of the same technology wrapped up in my scanner. It gathers and stores medical data, the statistics of the person attached to the chip in question. Then it's tied back into my hand-held unit, giving me access to what his vitals are currently doing, and what they've _been _doing."

"Where did you come from?" Kirkland was unable to veil any of his amazement this time.

"He's just a brainiac Kirkland - there's no other way to explain 'im," Raphael offered from a couple feet away.

* * *

Without further hesitation, they established a group consensus as per the direction they would be traveling, and agreed to follow Marc's progress directly. The turtles would have preferred to go on foot for the freedom of movement and the invisibility factor, but the men weren't budging from their belief that they would need the vehicles. The guys didn't have any choice but to concede to it; the others wouldn't have been able to keep up with them consistently anyway.

Michelangelo had to wonder what was going through his purple-masked brother's head with the way he'd been quietly conversing with Leonardo, and the two had been partially separating themselves from the others. He had a sneaking suspicion they were already planning some kind of move, and it was further confirmed when they took the other Jeep instead of riding with him and Raphael.

"What do you guess they're talking about?" Michelangelo asked Raphael casually, trying not to display his uncertainty about the situation.

Raphael shrugged, much more laid back about it than Mike had expected him to be. "We're in this thing together Mike, it ain't like anyone's going to be left out. They're just planning probably, butting their two brains together. So long as I'm in on the action, I don't care about hearing this part."

Michelangelo decided not to say anything else since he didn't seem concerned, and turned in his seat to face April instead. The woman flashed him a smile easily enough, but there was still pain behind it. Mike sighed heavily, as he tried to conjure up the right thing to say to her. In the end it was April who reached toward _him_, squeezing his shoulder affectionately.

"You've got no idea how much easier this is to do, just because you guys are here. I'm more grateful than I can put into words."

Raphael's amber eyes flicked over to her, and then lingered on Michelangelo for a fraction of a second. "We've got this," the red-masked turtle said firmly. "We know where they are, or we will soon anyway. They don't have a clue what's coming. Idiots are in for a rude awakening."

* * *

It was early evening when the Jeeps pulled over by the Ituri River, a torrent of a tributary that shared the name of the rainforest they'd been traveling deeper into. They fought their way off the main path into the brush, where the vehicles would be better concealed from view, and began arranging their own settlement for the night. It became quickly apparent that not _everyone_ was settling down. Raphael's suspicious gaze rested on Leonardo and Donatello in addition to Mike's curious one now, and the red-masked turtle didn't bother standing around waiting for an explanation.

"That's not_ fair_!" Raphael's sudden outburst succeeded in scaring a number of birds out of neighboring trees, and startling all their companions at once.

Michelangelo quickly straightened upright from the low fire he'd been tending to, and rushed over to where his brothers were talking.

"Raph, we're not going in to fight," Leonardo was keeping his own voice even. "We need to get some idea of the settlement up there, and how many men there might be. This is surveillance, pure and simple."

"And you two automatically elect yourselves as the only ones to do it?" Raphael fumed. "So much for teamwork."

"Please try and understand," Leonardo nearly pleaded with him. "We've got a long way to go on foot, and we'll probably be out there most of the night. We _could_ all go, but I feel like that would be leaving our guys back here partially exposed."

"So we're on babysitting duty. That makes it sound a lot better," the red-masked turtle said sarcastically, though he did manage to at least keep his voice down that time.

"We're sorry. We're not trying to take away your choice in the matter, it just makes sense when you consider-" Donny started to say.

"Save it Genius. If you two have it figured out already, there's nothing left to say, is there?" Raphael stalked angrily away, leaving an awkward Michelangelo in his wake.

The orange-masked turtle wasn't much happier. Although he didn't explode the way Raphael had, his feelings on the matter seemed perfectly clear too. "I _knew_ you had to be planning something like this," he mumbled heatedly.

"We'll be back before the sun rises," Leonardo assured him.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Michelangelo said shortly.

Donatello followed him as he turned back toward his fire a few feet away.

"Aren't you 'spose to be leaving?" Michelangelo asked with an edge.

"Don't be mad, please? We're trying to cover all of our bases, and we should have communicated sooner. I'm sorry Mikey."

"Haven't we learned that nothing good happens when we separate?" was Mike's only reply.

"Leo and I aren't going to take anything for granted. We'll be careful Mike."

"You'd better be," he said with serious annoyance, casting down the stick he'd been stirring embers with. "Just go already. We can hold down the fort."

The red-masked turtle was sulking silently by himself, which was certainly better than storming off, as he might have done in the past. The overwhelming feeling of having nothing to do was coming over Michelangelo again. Once everyone had eaten something, he found himself pacing their clearing just to combat the annoying sensation.

More than once he fingered the radio at his side, one of a set that had been brought along for the purpose of communicating among themselves without their cell-phones. Leo and Donny had taken one with them, and he was seriously resisting the urge to call them, and check on their progress. _They're working. Just let 'em be, don't act like a pest. _He took his hand off the radio again, and wandered slowly back into the fire circle, where the flames were still burning low to prevent it from smoking too much.

April was noticeably missing, and Brandon caught the orange-masked turtle looking around for her. "She went to talk to Raph."

Michelangelo cracked a smile. "She'd probably have better luck with him than anyone else, except for Karina that is."

Brandon laughed out loud. "My sister can keep him in line, can't she?"

"She has a gift," Michelangelo returned. "And patience - lots of that."

Mike picked up the soft sound of rustling foot-steps over their conversation, and glanced over to see the red-head coming back their direction. She was alone, but he thought he could see her smiling in the low-light, so that was encouraging at least. As she ducked under a hanging branch, she didn't quite judge the distance correctly, and ended up running into the wood instead.

April had just started to laugh at her mistake, when something dropped off the branch directly beside her. The chuckle turned into a loud gasp when she saw the size of the snake now in front of her on the ground. The rust colored reptile reared back its' head with a mighty hiss, unfurling a hood in the same motion. Kirkland was already on his feet by the fire, both arms outstretched toward her.

"April, don't-"

Before the man could get another word off, Michelangelo shot past the older gentleman like a blur, and lashed out at the snake from behind. The hard wood of his weapon of choice found a target in the serpents' head, as April instantly backpedaled into Raphael, who'd been coming up behind her.

Michelangelo stood back breathlessly for a moment, staring hard at glossy scales as Kirkland raced over to join him with a dead branch in hand.

The man probed the snake carefully with wood, and then shot Michelangelo a look.

"Did I kill it? I wasn't trying to."

Ryan shone the beam from a flashlight over the serpents' form to get a better look, and then tentatively felt the head. "Skull is crushed, he's dead," he asserted.

There was an entirely new respect in the man's eyes, but Michelangelo didn't want to focus on him. "Are you alright Ape?"

The woman nodded a little shakily, taking a step forward with Raphael still beside her. "What was it?"

"Some variety of cobra...coloring reminds me of a Cape. Looks almost...five feet long I'd wager. They're also very good climbers, and this is one of their most active times of hunting," Kirkland replied.

"Venomous?" Raphael asked.

"Extremely, they've got one of the most potent venoms in Africa," Ryan replied, shooting another look at Michelangelo. "I've never seen anyone move that fast."

"Now you understand why we like to keep them around Ryan," April commented impishly.

* * *

***Reviews are the icing on the cake. Unless you're one of those people who just likes to scrape it off. Terrible waste if you ask me. :)**


	30. Den

***Can I just say again how awesome it is to have betas? Seriously writers, if you're holding out, just go for it. You won't regret it.**

* * *

Blending in with the rainforest felt like the ultimate in field training to Donatello. They'd spent a small amount of time in the Adirondacks and semi-wilderness back in New York, but this was a different experience entirely. He almost felt some of his rationality slipping away, as the strong animalistic urge to blend in and hunt tugged on the back of his mind.

One glance at the scanner that was guiding their trek was enough to bring him back to reality, and to the sense that they weren't operating solely on instinct. They were following a somewhat trampled path, though not actually walking on it themselves. He and Leonardo had been moving in utter silence, relying heavily on their hearing to warn them of things they couldn't see in the darkness. They had flashlights, but weren't using them. They were out here to get as close to the lions' den as possible, and drawing excess attention to themselves didn't seem like the best idea.

The thick canopy overhead didn't allow for very much sunlight to penetrate to the forest floor, thus cutting down on the physical obstructions in their path. Unlike the jungles of Central America, this meant that they didn't have to fight and hack their way through innumerable vines and vegetation to get somewhere. Even where vines did exist, they weren't a tangled network of webs across their path. The only thing slowing their progress in the least was the time they took darting between trees, and low-lying bushes.

They were able to move swiftly for the most part, and were eager to cover as much ground as they could in the time afforded to them, so they could devote more time to scouting when they reached their destination. Donatello was following old data on the scanner from a couple of days ago, leading them to the supposed settlement where Marc's signal had spent a single night before moving on to still higher ground.

After a frustrating day of traveling slowly in the Jeeps over the rough terrain, they were more than ready to run. Their pace only slowed a little when they reached the first of the foothills, and made their second real pit-stop of the night to consider their direction of attack. Donatello judged their position silently for a minute or two, before offering Leonardo their options.

"We can say that we have darkness on our side, but the fact remains that the path of least resistance is also the most exposed. These men know this region, and probably aren't afraid to travel through it, even at night. We can't guarantee not running into anyone. On the flipside, the tree line offers cover, but it'll slow us down more, and make it more difficult to discern where we are. We don't want to overshoot this possible village. It probably holds the key for helping us find the men who took Marc."

"So the question that we need to answer is how much do we trust own senses? Enough to risk taking the more vulnerable path?" Leonardo wondered aloud. "We're operating under a limited time window, and we stand the chance of bypassing what we're looking for entirely if we stick to the denser forest. I'd rather not waste our time out here, if it's all the same to you. Not when there are lives hanging in the balance. If you agree, I'm up for the open way."

"I was thinking along those lines Fearless."

"I guess that settles it then. You ready to move again?"

"More than ready."

Donatello was grateful to be doing this in the dead of night, for more than the obvious cover it provided. Escaping the blast of the sun at its' hottest point was a welcome trade-off too. They lapsed back into silence as they picked back up the trail, and the sound of rushing water beneath them became their climbing companion all the way up the ridge. There had been a few other sounds off in the rainforest on either side of the path, but nothing posed an immediate threat.

The only thing hindering them a little was the sure footwork that was required over the loose rocks that they could hardly see, as they still refused to use a flashlight. Their feet rose and fell with deliberate steps, digging somewhat into the earth for better traction where it existed. The cresting of the ridge provided opportunity for another flash of hesitation for them, as they caught their first sight of smoke ahead. Tiny flames burned in the distance, that were probably nothing more than torches.

Donatello made an adjustment with his scanner to check their bearings, quietly deciphering the degrees of their location. "Leo, I think this is it," he said after a few seconds. "It matches up awful closely. They were here, as early as a couple of days ago."

"Then this is where we start," Leonardo said decisively, and then looked around at possible vantage points surrounding them. "We need to get closer, but...not too close."

"I'm with you there Leo." The purple-masked turtle handed him the extra pair of digital binoculars, and drew his own pair over his head.

The two turtles skirted through the trees carefully, trying not to leave a trace of an obvious shadow for someone to pick up on. Donatello saw his brothers' gaze repeatedly returning to various trees, and realized what he was probably thinking.

"I think climbing would provide our best visual," Donatello offered.

"You read my mind. Do any of these look particularly sturdy to you?"

Donatello peered more carefully at their surroundings, searching for something that would offer not only stability, but a measure of comfort for the extended time that they would be using it. The purple-banded turtle wandered a few more steps, before nodding to himself. "These would probably do the trick here Fearless, but test your weight before going too far out on a limb."

* * *

Both turtles scaled two of the trees that were side-by-side, and relaxed into cautious positions to find the best angles that the night vision on the binoculars could attain. They stayed in that spot for over an hour before descending, deciding to move closer yet so they could find a wider view of the entire settlement at once.

Leonardo wasn't encouraged by what he saw. This was the type of situation that he felt almost _required_ an army to storm in, and seize control. He'd made the discovery of weapons that closely resembled a kind of canon; it was definitely a launching system of some nature. While the blue-masked turtle was confident in their ability to pull off a successful strike using stealth, the possibility of what could happen if they were discovered was a little overwhelming. They were seriously outnumbered and outgunned.

By the time the night was drawing nearer to an end, he and Don were located in their third vantage point of the mission. Leonardo knew that the others were expecting them back before the sun came up, but he'd also kept contact with camp a couple of times, and felt a little more freedom not to restrict their time limit. He hadn't been sure of what they would find out here, but stumbling onto something of this size wasn't it.

They'd spent the last couple of hours recording footage, and familiarizing themselves with the movement of the sentries. Despite the fact that their targets weren't present, finding the village itself still had enough significance to Leonardo that he wanted to learn as much as he could about it. When the 4AM hour hit, he felt Donatello's gaze from the next tree, and glanced his brother's direction.

Without speaking a word, Leonardo motioned to descend, and they carefully picked their way down from their hidden perch, muscles stiff from the constrained positions they'd been crouched in. The blue-masked turtle stretched out either leg in turn when he got to the ground, and exhaled softly.

"I think we've got enough Intel for tonight," he told Donatello. "If we go now, we still ought to beat the sun, like we told the others we would."

"Sounds good to me." Donny sounded very agreeable. "I think we've seen all that we're going to from here."

The two shadows made their way back almost blindly, heading for the small footbridge that connected the opposing sides of a creek-bed. They'd worked their way closer to the settlement than they'd intending to starting out, and felt the urge to be just as careful leaving as they had been coming in. Leonardo was enjoying how quickly they'd learned to safely maneuver the rocky terrain, without being able to really see it. They were walking alongside the top of the creek-bed now, a few yards away from where they could cross the bridge.

From out of the bush on the opposite side of the bank, a glint of light suddenly appeared. Leonardo was about to speak, when he noticed Donatello already stiffening out of the corner of his eyes. The blue-masked turtle jerked his head in the direction of the creek, and both turtles dropped over the side, skidding over small pebbles and rocks to the very edge of the water.

Leonardo caught sight of what appeared to be additional beams of light now cutting through the darkness above them, and heard the footsteps that went along with them. They still felt too exposed for his liking. Leonardo tugged Donatello's arm lightly to get him moving again, and they made a bee-line for the footbridge itself.

They intentionally avoided the water for the sake of noise, and the electronics they were carrying on their person. Leonardo tried hard to listen while they bounded over rocks in their path, their feet barely touching the ground in their effort to get under cover faster. They were still a few feet off, when a rock shifted the _wrong_ direction under Leonardo. The blue-masked turtle kept his own feet, but the tumbling weight of the large stone set off a small cascade of rocks into the water beside him.

The turtle mentally cursed himself as he kept going, but was nearly startled out of his jog when gunfire shattered the night air. He heard Donatello gasp behind him, as the purple-masked turtle rolled nimbly to avoid bullets. Leonardo couldn't say for sure if either of them had been seen, but it was safe to say they'd been _heard_. He crouched low to the ground while he waited to make sure Donatello rose, even as his brother waved him off.

The beams of light were traveling across the creek-bed now, wide sweeping arcs that made them want to move faster and more quietly at the same time. This was followed by voices, at least three different individuals that were arguing sharply. Their tones were extremely harsh, and the language was foreign to their ears.

_What, you expect them to speak English in the middle of the African rainforest_? Leonardo couldn't help being exasperated with himself.

At what sounded like a sharp command, the voices died down to silence, while the turtles ducked under the bridge. They flattened themselves as close to the ground as possible, and Leonardo felt around in the darkness until he found Donatello's shoulder. They were both fighting to keep their breathing absolutely silent.

"Are you all right?" Leonardo's whisper was hardly audible, and Donatello only nodded in return. "I'm sorry bro. That was really stupid of me."

Footsteps still hovered on the bridge above them, as if the men were suspended in time. The Africans were neither leaving, nor advancing. Just waiting.


	31. Signal

Leonardo and Donatello waited tensely, completely motionless in their position under the bridge. Silence penetrated the atmosphere, until something like a stifled cough broke the stillness. The sound of a sharp blow followed it, along with another angry outburst of speech that they couldn't understand. This one was a little more startling though, because it sounded very much like a _woman_. The two turtles met each others' gazes, and shared a wince at the loud report of further blows.

The female tone grunted in pain, and the thought of her being hurt enraged both brothers. It was quiet again for a few seconds, but then-

"You shouldn't...do that," an extremely winded but familiar voice said aloud in English.

The turtles' heads jerked so fast that it could have made a snapping sound effect.

"I'm fine Marc," the woman returned. "Do you think you can stand?"

"Good question," he wavered slightly, the very effort in his voice indicating the trouble he was having.

They heard shuffling footsteps moving above them again, along with another guttural command in the foreign language.

"We've almost made it," the woman encouraged Marcus. "Hold on just a little while longer, and you'll be able to rest. Only a little further." She wasn't able to mask the intense worry that remained in her voice.

Under the bridge, Leonardo was keeping a wary eye on his younger brother. It seemed to be so difficult not lunge at the men out of their hiding spot in the shadows, that the purple-masked turtle was actually shaking. Leonardo firmly held onto Donatello's wrist, and shook his head with an exaggerated motion. _No_, Leonardo mouthed when his brother's brown eyes met his.

The blue-masked turtle was just as eager to pounce as Donny was, and the existence of the semi-automatic weapons was the _only_ thing stopping him. These men already had hostages, and Leonardo knew they wouldn't hesitate to use them, or shoot the turtles themselves. Here in the wilderness with no way of reaching the safety of the sewers or Donatello's Lab, he didn't want to risk of someone being shot, let alone being taken captive because they couldn't hold their peace.

_Steady_, he commanded Donatello as fiercely as he could without using real syllables. _Don't you move_.

His brothers' fists remained tightly clenched on either side of him, but Donatello clamped his mouth shut and obeyed. Neither one of them so much as moved or breathed audibly, until the footsteps had traveled well away from them. Then Leonardo darted out suddenly, and stayed low to the ground as he ascended part of the bank, so he could try to see over the top of it.

Leonardo searched out the retreating figures with the binoculars, and released a shaky breath. "I'm really sorry Donny."

"I can't believe we let them walk away!" the younger turtle fumed.

"It was the most responsible thing we could have done. I agree, I wanted to attack them so badly I could barely see straight. But it wouldn't have ended well Donny, you know that. Either someone would have been shot and killed, or we would have been forced to _join_ them in captivity. That wouldn't have helped anyone."

Donatello surely knew that what he said was true, but it didn't seem to make it any easier to take. "Let's go already, before it gets any later. We won't beat the sunrise at this rate," his brother mumbled.

They crawled out of the creek-bed, harboring a curious combination of anger, relief, and being completely deflated. Being that close to their quarry and unable to act was the very definition of frustration. They moved in silence now not just out of necessity, but because neither turtle really felt like talking.

When Leonardo realized they were definitely going to be late, he made swift contact with their camp, marking the first time he or Donny had spoken in about forty minutes. He was still a little unsure about the radio, though Donatello had explained that they should be well within the transmission range for them to work. "Does anybody copy on this thing? Hello?"

Static followed, and then Raphaels' voice. "Where are you guys Fearless? You'd better be close by."

"We will be Raph, but we got a little held up."

"Who coulda seen_ that _coming?" the red-banded turtle retorted.

"Can the attitude, alright? This is important, I need you to listen to me. We found them, we found Marc and his translator. We know exactly where they are. We're probably still a good half hour out from you guys, but we'll be there as soon as we can."

* * *

Marc had experienced some long nights in the recent years, but the last one had to have been the most physically demanding of any on record for him. Their captors had watched him struggle throughout the day before, and finally let him sleep for a few hours in the afternoon when he collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. Rebecca hadn't left his side, and seemed grateful for the respite too. Neither of them had gotten any sleep through the night, thanks to him.

They'd been roused in the early evening, and forced to pack up to leave without any kind of explanation. The doctor had his own suspicions why, and he was pretty sure that Rebecca did too, though neither had wanted to voice it yet. Marcus hadn't done much talking on the trek as it was - he was too busy focusing on shallow breaths, and keeping one foot in front of the other. Exercise was one of the worst things they could have forced on him in this condition, but he figured telling the rebels that wouldn't go over well.

When they'd first left the mining colony, he wasn't sure if he'd make it more than twenty steps. Marc had been surprised to find out how much further he could push himself, though he was only traveling at about a quarter of his normal pace. The men had grown impatient a number of times, finally supporting him for a couple of extended distances, just so they could cover ground faster.

Even when they forced him to walk alone, he wasn't really on his own. Rebecca's arm never left him, and her firm grip had helped keep him on his feet through several stumbles. Her whispered encouragement made him feel like the sun might actually rise again someday. They were within yards of the settlement now, and he was more relieved to see it than he'd expected to be. He was so desperate to stop, it could very well have been the gates to Heaven as far as he was concerned.

Marcus was baffled by the experience they'd just gone through on the bridge, completely confused as to what had actually happened.

"What was all the arguing and shooting back there?" he asked Rebecca, only wasting the breath because they would be able to rest soon.

"A couple of men heard something, then they thought they _saw _something Marc. They're very opportunistic. If they think there's an animal nearby, they'll shoot first and ask questions later."

"What if it had been one of their own people?"

Rebecca shrugged. "It's not likely. They generally don't go poking around the creek at this hour, and mostly stay in the settlement after darkness falls."

"We traveled at night," he pointed out.

"They didn't think you'd make it in the heat of the day," she said softly.

"They're right, I almost...I couldn't have even made it _this_ far on my own," he said with certainty. Marcus looked down at the ground, and his gaze remained there as he asked his next question. "They're going to kill us, aren't they? I'm not up to snuff."

"I don't know Marc."

"I think you know better than you're telling me."

"They'll have to confer with the other leaders in the settlement, it could be why we're back here already. They may allow you time to recover, and give you another chance."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

She didn't say anything for several seconds. "They're not known for their mercy," she admitted. "But they did go to a lot of trouble to make this happen."

Marcus raised his head, and shook it slowly. "And now it looks like it was all wasted. Rebecca, I'm sorry for everything."

"Stop apologizing. The only thing you're guilty of is being an incredibly good man...and I feel privileged that I got to work with you, even for a short time."

"I hope you don't get to die for me," he said morosely, and her hand went to his arm again.

"It's better to die for doing the right thing, than to live an entire life of compromise."

* * *

Marcus slept fitfully through the morning into the afternoon. He and Rebecca were left alone in the hut, with only their lone guardian to watch over them. The cough roused him repeatedly, and Rebecca had been waiting to try and help every time. By the seventh round, he realized she probably wasn't sleeping at all.

"Becky, stop fussing with me," he said a little raggedly. "You have to rest sometime."

"I am resting Marc," she said with a stubborn tone. "Now try and get some more water down."

In the midst of swallowing another mouthful, a familiar vibration that traveled the length of his arm jolted him severely.

"What's the matter?" Rebecca asked quickly.

The man didn't answer her right away, as he rolled up partially on his side. One of his fingers ran over the smooth facing of his watch, and he wondered if he was hallucinating already. Just in case he wasn't, he punched the screen to illuminate it, and gasped sharply.

"Marc, what is it?" the woman persisted.

"Either this thing is shorting out in a _really _weird way, or...or..."

"Or what? You're scaring me Marcus. What are you doing with your watch?"

"I think I'm being sent a signal."

"A signal from somewhere else?"

_Geesh, she has to think I'm out of mind. _Marcus held off from answering her again, as the number of beacons being activated multiplied before his very eyes. With a strong swallow, he faced the young woman once more.

"I need you to listen to me, to hear me out. You have to believe me when I say that I'm in my right mind. This is going to sound a little crazy, but there are things I have to tell you."

"What's this signal you're talking about?"

"You know I have an implanting homing beacon. What you _don't_ know is that my watch has one too, along with another interesting feature. It has a panic button, and it's capable of delivering a distress code. My friends and I all have them, they're connected so that when someone sets one off, everyone else gets alerted at once.

My watch just started going off, I'm receiving someone elses' signal, several of them actually. I don't think it's malfunctioning. I think it could be a message."

"What does it mean?"

"They're close by," Marcus said tiredly. "It wasn't false hope - they came. They came like I suspected they would."

Rebecca started to say something, and he held up a hand to stop her.

"There's more that I haven't told you, and I should do it _before_ I get loopy."

The young woman waited as his chest heaved, working much harder for air then he should have had to.

"It's about the warriors. You asked me a couple of days ago why they separate themselves from the world, and I didn't really answer you. I have to share the real reason with you, and it's knowledge that precious few people have."_  
_


	32. Playing by Ear

***Hmm...I'm feeling generous, how about another chap? Warning - there are several POV switches coming. In chapters like these, I have to cheat a little. Or a lot. No more playing around - here we go.**

* * *

The day passed gruelingly slowly for Michelangelo. He milled around their camp-site like a pinball that couldn't find somewhere to rest. Mike didn't feel like he had anything to contribute to the harried planning taking place, if it could even be called that. No one on the team knew how they could get into the settlement unseen, or how much security could be surrounding their targets. They had a good idea of the lay-out of the village thanks to their spies, but it was still a different kind of situation as far as past rescue attempts were concerned.

Donatello was usually in full on tech mode, prepared with all the gizmos they'd need to break in undetected, and Leonardo always had a plan. The only thing that hours of discussion and debating had established, was that they were going to have to play things by ear. They would only be able to act according to to what kind of situation faced them when they arrived at the settlement that night.

Darkness wasn't coming fast _enough_ for Michelangelo. The orange-masked turtle had cast more than one evil-eye at the looming sun, cursing its' slow progress across the sky. They were waiting for the cover of darkness before even moving the Jeeps in the direction that Leo and Donny had gone the night before. It was going to be slow-going on that count too, because of the lack of a suitable road. His brothers had assured them that the vehicles would have enough space to make it through most of the forest ahead of them, it just wasn't going to be a completely straight shot.

Some difficult decisions had already been cast: namely that Luke, April, and Kirkland were going to hang back with the vehicles, while everyone else ascended the last great hill of the rebels' territory on foot. Neither of the men was happy about it, but their strategy was to keep April as far away from danger as possible, but still leave them in a position where they could ostensibly pick someone up if necessary.

Donatello was riding with Mike, and the younger turtle could see the nerves in every line of his body. Michelangelo knew that Don didn't like going in without a real plan, but felt that there was probably more to it than that. The purple-masked turtle turned as he probably felt Mikes' eyes, and exhaled deeply.

"You know there was nothing you coulda done last night Donny," Mike said firmly for the fourth time that day.

"If I'd been aware of what was going on, we could have been prepared Mikey. I was too busy watching where his signal _had_ been, to notice that it was coming right at us! If I'd realized it sooner, we could have acted somehow. Now we might end up having to deal with so many more of them, I can't even..." Donatello didn't bother finishing, and turned a plaintive gaze forward. "I don't have a good feeling about this, but we can't wait either. Marc's oxygen levels have been further deteriorating, and he's extremely dehydrated. He needs intervention, and soon. We have to make this work. I don't have a clue how, but we have to."

* * *

The turtles weren't going to stop the other men from arming themselves, even if they wouldn't touch the guns with a ten-foot pole. They'd left Luke, April, and Kirkland at the base of incline hours before, and made the careful trek toward the village with everyone else. They stayed in denser forest this time instead of taking the open way; no one wanted to risk being seen coming, and they had no idea who could be watching. They ended up following the curve of the forest _around _the settlement itself, while tracking the distinct signal of where Marc was being held. Even if they weren't following a beacon, it would have been hard to miss where they were imprisoned. A circle of six guards surrounded the simple hut, making it look like their own version of a maximum security prison.

No one was taking a complete lead yet, amidst the soft discussion that had been going on in the trees for what felt like forever to Michelangelo. The others weren't worried about their _ability_ to deal with the guards, but the necessity that everything stay absolutely silent. There were numerous dwellings in every direction they looked, and it felt like the slightest disturbance could bring the entire village down on them at once. If that much firepower got involved, it was hard to imagine anyone getting out of it.

It was obvious that some kind of distraction was needed. It would have to be non-threatening to prevent an overreaction on the rebels' part, yet still enough to garner real interest, without them making a racket in the process. The memory of being shot at for doing nothing more than disturbing the water in the creek was still fresh for two of the brothers.

Greg had been arguing his own point for the last several minutes, an option that no one had taken a liking to yet. "If I make myself known before I just appear, they're probably not going to shoot me outright."

"But they still can't understand a word that you say, and you're effectively going to be surrendering to them," Tim responded.

"I actually think that the language barrier will work in my favor," Greg suggested.

"Heff, I don't think there's _anything _about this situation that would work in your favor," Brandon retorted.

"Well, who else has an idea? Anybody? We can sit out here forever, or we can do what we need to in order to get to them. I think we ought to make some move _before_ the sun comes up."

As Greg was finishing his impassioned speech, Donatello turned to watch the hut in question. The turtle gasped softly when two of the six guards unexpectedly walked away from their post.

"I think we have a shift change in progress, we've lost a couple of them. If we're going to act, this might be the time to do it!" Donatello exclaimed softly to the others.

* * *

Greg intentionally made a racket coming out of the trees, making no attempt to conceal his approach on the gunmen. He was instantly facing down their barrels as he'd expected to, but kept his cool inwardly as he rambled on in English about being lost and needing help. The four men seemed more than confident in their ability to contain him - their voices never even rose more than a couple of degrees.

For Greg's part, he was only trying to play a clueless wanderer, who didn't know what in the world he was walking into. Still under gun-point, he carefully showed them his wad of cash, and the locally made cigarettes he'd bought specifically for bribing the natives. The men sounded a little jovial in their tones with each other, seeming to relax somewhat in the face of the helpless stranger. The cigarettes were a rare enough treat for them, that all four wanted one immediately.

Greg could only imagine what they were actually saying to each other, and what they would do with him if they were given the opportunity. His eyes carefully scanned outside their circle, watching to see if any other replacement guards were approaching, while hoping the _guys_ would get moving.

A twig snapped on the backside of the hut, and Greg knew the game was on. Two of the four turned and sauntered that direction with weapons raised, not even bothering to drop their cigarettes. They didn't see anything right away, and took a couple of steps toward the edge of the tree-line to investigate further.

The instant the men's backs were completely turned, two shadows descended from the roof of the hut, and were on top of the humans faster than they could have blinked. Leonardo and Raphael silently got rid of them as quickly as they could, and the blue-masked turtle flashed the beam of his light in the direction of the trees, signaling that they'd been successful.

Then they flattened against the side of the building, inching around the right side to where the window was located. Carefully, Leonardo pressed forward, and glanced inside the dwelling. The faint glow of a lantern illuminated the room enough for him to make out a man by the door, cradling a gun against his chest. The human was clearly dozing, and it emboldened Leonardo to stretch to his full height to get a better look. He noticed a shadowed figure sitting cross-legged on the floor by a netted hammock, which looked like it held someone else.

Raphael was suddenly right beside him, crouching lower to the ground than he was. "The other guards are on the move Fearless," he hissed softly.

Leonardo and Raphael moved in a circle slowly around the front of the building, staying just out of sight of the two remaining guards who were heading around the back of it. The red-masked turtle rolled his eyes, obviously impatient with being forced to play ring around the rosy. They'd barely made it to the door, when a soft thud against the side of the dwelling made both of them halt in their step. They held their breath motionlessly for a couple of seconds, until Michelangelo's head popped up around the corner.

"Sorry dudes, he fell the wrong direction," the orange-masked turtle offered.

"Forget it, we don't have much time," Leonardo called softly. "Where's Donny?"

The purple-masked turtle was right behind him. "I'm here Leo, we all are."

"Get inside, we have to finish this. There's one guard on the door, not real alert. He should be pretty simple to dispatch."

"I'm on it Leo," Donatello replied.

Greg stayed directly on the purple-masked turtles' shell as he approached the door.

"He wouldn't be expecting us, so...let me try this." Donatello knocked lightly on the frame, and held his breath.

There was an irritated grunt from inside, and the door shifted. As soon as the African revealed himself, the turtles' fist crashed into his jaw. Donatello caught him by the shoulders, and pulled the man outside to pass to one of his other brothers.

"Heff, maybe you should go first," he suggested. "I don't think the girl has a clue what's about to happen."

Greg walked in without a word, and caught his first sight of the young woman. She seemed to be trying hard not to tremble as she struggled to her feet, but never budged from her protective position from in front of the hammock.

"Rebecca?" Greg asked cautiously.

She fought to form sensible words. "I...you...Yes, I am. Who-"

"Introductions can wait. We're friends, that's all you need to know for the moment," he replied, and looked over his shoulder. "C'mon in Donny, we don't have time to ease into this," he called to someone else, before turning back to her. "Brace yourself, okay?"

"What? I don't..." The young woman trailed off as Donatello came inside of the small dwelling.

The light wasn't great, but there was enough for her to recognize that the figure _wasn't_ human. She silently stood to one side as the creature approached Marcus, and swiftly knelt by the hammock on the floor.

The turtle appeared to be testing a couple of vitals on the man, and Rebecca's heart rate picked up as he seemed to have a difficult time detecting Marc's breathing. When his hand probed the man's chest a little harder, Marc's eyes suddenly opened.

"Hey buddy," the turtle said in what sounded like soft relief. "It's gonna be okay. We're getting you out of here."

"_Donny_," the man's gasp was clearly overwhelmed. He struggled to get upright, and when the turtle moved to help, Marc's arms went around his shoulders tightly. "I knew you couldn't let it go."

"You know us way better than that Marcus. Don't waste your breath right now, okay? Let me get you hooked up with an Oxi, and we've got to move."

"Oxi?" Rebecca repeated, as the turtle sifted through his bag.

"It's a self-contained oxygen unit. It won't breathe for him, but it will deliver a better quality of air to his lungs. I'm hoping it will help in the short term, until we can get him to a city."

"Need...breathing treatment," Marc filled in, and the turtle nodded.

"We agree Marc, but we've got to get out of this rainforest first."

Rebecca snapped out of her motionless position, and reached for both of their packed bags. Marcus had instructed her to get all their things together earlier. As she started to shoulder both of them, the other man moved to take one, and startled her severely.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured her.

The turtle set the Oxi up, and the maneuvered the hammock to help Marcus out of it. "I'd love to let you take it slow Marc, but we don't have time."

The other man slipped both arms through Marc's bag, and then turned to help the turtle get Marcus upright. Rebecca silently followed them outside, hoping she wasn't actually dreaming all of this. That would be awfully disappointing, even as confusing as it was. She stopped mid-stride when they ran into others outside, until she realized that they were all together.

"Tim, would you trade places with me for a minute?" the one called "Donny" requested, and jumped off the porch to talk to someone else.

"Good to see you Marc," the new man said affectionately.

"Yeah, it's nice of you guys to drop by," Marcus said with the biggest smile he could muster.

The exchange was cut off before it could go any further, by someone else's voice. Another of the creatures appeared in front of them, and this one sounded extremely urgent.

"We've got to move, we've got to move _now_!"

Before anyone could say a word, two shouts in the nearby vicinity confirmed what he was so upset about.

* * *

***Wink, wink...Mi****ght I remind all of you that the story is already finished? Ask, and ye shall receive.**


	33. Scatter

Panic barely had a chance to seize Rebecca, before the creature who'd just warned them swung into action.

"We've got to divert them! Separate and give them rabbits to chase! Donny with me, Raph take Brandon, and we've got to hit the wind. Mikey, go with the others, make sure that Marc and Rebecca get to safety. We'll do our best to draw them off._ Now move_!" The authority in his voice was a force to be reckoned with.

Rebecca jerked uncertainly when one of the turtles appeared beside her. She started to speak, but the two men that had Marcus were already retreating swiftly into the trees. The turtle gently but firmly pulled her in the same direction they'd gone, one arm hovering protectively close to her back even when she started moving on her own.

When the sound of gunfire erupted, he shifted behind her entirely, and it took her a moment to realize he was using _himself_ as a barrier against possible bullets. She resisted the urge to pinch herself for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. Marcus had finally filled in the remaining detail concerning the so called "warriors", but seeing them in the flesh was a shock nonetheless.

Rebecca forced her legs to go faster when she lost sight of the men they'd been following, realizing that she was hampering their progress with her own speed. Adrenaline was fueling her partially, helping her over the hump of exhaustion she was experiencing from two sleepless days. Part of her felt a sense of security with one of the "mythical" subjects of Marc's stories directly behind her, but the other part was dreadfully concerned about the others causing a diversion. _They don't like guns_...The fleeting thought ran through her mind in that moment, one of the first things that Marcus had told her about them. _If they get cornered, what chance do they have?_

Rebecca was doing her best to keep her balance and not stumble over roots or rocks at the speed they were traveling, but it was turning out to be harder than any movie had ever depicted for her. The strong arms of the turtle behind her had kept her on her feet more than once. In the darkness, it was almost too easy to forget that he _wasn't _actually human. All of their forms were mere shadows, weaving in and out of the trees,

They'd run for a ways already, when the men in front of her made a change in direction, now heading down the incline itself. Every step that carried them away from the rebels was a gigantic relief for Rebecca, but in the pit of her stomach she wouldn't relax until they were well away from here. The sound of gunfire continued in the distance, and made her cringe as if bullets were striking her own body. She hated the thought of their rescuers being hurt badly or killed.

The rapid descent of the men in front of her stopped short with a jerk, and Rebecca struggled to catch her own feet on the hill as well. When she and the turtle had nearly caught up, she realized why they'd halted. Two shadowy figures were standing in their path, weapons raised to prevent them from going any further. She had seen guns on the strangers, but they'd been too occupied supporting Marc, and not openly carrying the weapons.

Rebecca felt the turtle tense up behind her, as though preparing for some type of action. As she struggled to catch her breath and not have a heart attack in the same instant, one of the gunman strangely lowered his weapon. Without warning, the rebel unexpectedly turned on his comrade, striking the man over the head with his rifle. In the stunned amazement that followed, a name was called out of the darkness.

"Unathi!"

"Nanji!" The young woman rushed past the still startled men, meeting the rebel who was standing over his fallen partner.

"_You have to go_," he said fiercely. "_You came around the long way, we got ahead of you easily. More are behind you - you have to go_!"

"_I knew you weren't like them! I knew you couldn't do it_," she exclaimed in return.

"_They were going to kill you Unathi. I had planned to try something myself, but this way is better. I may absolve my guilt yet. Now you must make haste and run, before you're overwhelmed again_!"

"_What are you going to do Nanji_?"

She couldn't see his expression in the darkness, but noticed his shoulders straighten.

"_Whatever happens to me is nothing less than I deserve. I'm staying, I'll slow them down. But I cannot _stop _them Unathi, that's why you have to run_!"

When her arms went around him, she felt the man tremble in her grasp.

"_Will you pray to your God that He will forgive me_?" he asked in a strained voice.

"_If I can forgive you, I know He will_."

He broke from her embrace, and looked at the men staring at them wide-eyed. "Go!" he commanded shortly, one of the only English words he ever made an attempt at uttering. "Go now!"

* * *

Raphael and Brandon were practically flying by this point, having only remained in the settlement long enough to sufficiently attract attention. The red-masked turtle slowed enough to keep himself from outpacing Brandon, but in the truth, the human wasn't weighing him down much. They'd been shot at a number of times already, but nothing had gotten through to either of them. The men were still too close for comfort, and both of them were eager to retreat to the cover of the rainforest.

Brandon tugged Raphael's arm sharply as they veered between two more dwellings, and indicated with his head in the direction of the trees. The red-masked turtle nodded without wasting words, and they put on another burst of speed to leave the settlement behind them. They crashed through brush much more loudly than they would have liked, but escape was the name of the game right now.

Brandon glanced back over his shoulder a couple times as they entered the tree-line, and Raphael noticed him clutching his gun closer to his chest. He knew the human technically wasn't any more comfortable handling the weapon than any of the turtles were. Brandon had been instilled with a similar respect for life as the turtles had through his own Tai Kwon Do training, and preferred to use his fists over a firearm any day.

The sound of pursuit was heavy behind them, but they didn't seem to be gaining much ground according to Raphael's ears. The turtle was confused about what direction they should be going, and finally came to a halt altogether when he felt reasonably safe to do so. Brandon stopped beside him drawing in deep gulps of air, as Raphael tried to get his bearings back.

"We've gotta figure out where we are somehow," the turtle said in-between his own breathing, and listening for the sound of others behind them.

Brandon scanned the sky, peering through patches of leaves to try and find some indication in the heavenly bodies that could help him figure out where they were. The man walked around a tree, then wandered to a larger gap before spotting the moon. "If we want to get back to the Jeeps, I think we need to get turned left, head back for the base of this thing."

"Is that what you think we should be doing?"

"Raph, I don't know. We're playing this by ear, remember? Do you want to try and reach Leo?"

The red-masked turtle withdrew the radio. "Won't hurt to try. If he's too busy, he just won't answer." He was anxious to check on the status of his other brothers anyway. "Leo, are you getting this? Are you guys out there?"

After a few seconds, he got the desired response.

"We're still moving Raph, heading west a bit further before we start jogging south again. What's your position?"

"Don't have a clue, Brandon's got some idea. I think we're gonna turn and head your way. They were following us, but I haven't heard 'em for a couple of minutes."

"That doesn't mean they're not out there Raph!"

"I know Fearless, I know! I don't want to risk leading them to the Jeeps! But I don't know how we'll be able to find you either."

"We're making for that stone quarry - it's too big for you to miss. We'll try and hang out in that vicinity until you can get here."

"All right Leo, we're heading that way," the red-masked turtle said quickly, and clicked off the radio. "We have to get west," he told Brandon, regardless of the fact that the man had heard their entire conversation.

"We're already going the right direction then Raph, we just have to keep cutting across the way we have been," Brandon replied. "That will put us closer to your brothers, and further from the Jeeps."

"I say we keep running these morons around out here Brandon, until we're sure we've lost them."

The two started moving, and jolted when gunfire sounded again close-by. Their little pit-stop had proved to be a dangerous one. Raphael growled under his breath in frustration over the guns, and kept plowing straight ahead through the brush. Brandon kept an even pace with the turtle, his own gun now in a more "ready" stance than it had been before.

As they crashed through limbs into another small clearing, the faintest glimmer of moonlight reflected off something metal, and the human reacted before the turtle could change directions. Brandon rammed into Raphael's right side as hard as he could, and the unexpected blow sent the turtle sprawling before weapons could begin discharging.

He rapidly returned fire as Raphael righted himself, and yanked the man by the shoulder to pull him out of the path of oncoming bullets. The human continued firing heedless of the turtle, until the weapons quieted across from them. Raphael jerked him out of the clearing a little roughly into better cover, and heard the man cry out in pain.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to hurt you. We needed to get out of there!" Raphael exclaimed.

"You didn't," he gasped in return, curling up partially on the ground where they were crouching.

Raphael peered at him closer, and suddenly realized the man _had_ been shot in the side. "_Shell_! Why didn't you say something?"

"Raph, it's fine, I'll be fine. I can keep going. Run now, pain later."

The red-masked turtle whipped off his cloak hurriedly, and rammed one of his sai through the fabric. "Not without some kinda wrap at least. I gotta warn you, I ain't a professional."

"You're not? Geesh, I ran off with the wrong turtle."

"Zip it bonehead, and let me get this done," Raphael shot back, more out of anxiety than real irritation. "We don't have to meet the guys Brandon - we can turn back for the Jeeps. You're gonna need _real_ attention."

"I'm telling you, I can make it. Just wrap that as tight as you can, and let's get out of here."


	34. Apologies

After the strange exchange between Rebecca and the rebel they'd rapidly altered their course, avoiding the more direct way down from the steep incline. Michelangelo's arm returned to resting protectively around the young woman, and she didn't even flinch this time. Greg and Tim were still leading with Marcus, trailing a path along the side of the carved rock face. They were being forced to pick their way down more slowly than they probably wanted to on the uncertain ledge.

A couple of small trailing stones that fell from above them were the only warning that Michelangelo had, before a figure leaped off the ridge overhead. The orange-masked turtle quickly thrust the woman behind him, and pounced at the shadow before he had the barrel of his gun completely raised. A sharp kick connected with the rebel's chest, and Mike followed that blow with another punch to the man's chin.

Before he even had time to take a breath, he heard someone alight behind him, and whirled around to face the man who was now crouching in between him and Rebecca. Without hesitation he hurled himself at their second attacker, and barely had a chance to disarm the stunned man, before the sound of gunfire echoed from above them.

"Get Marc out of here! Keep going!" Michelangelo yelled to the others, without bothering to even glance over his shoulder.

"We're not leaving you!" Greg's voice stubbornly returned, and the turtle was certain it was his own friends return fire that he was hearing now.

Michelangelo grunted in irritation, as he feigned from the right to avoid a strike from the man he'd disarmed, and ducked much faster than the rebel anticipated he could have. His assailant's' own weight made him stumble as his attempted blow struck nothing but air, and he careened over the edge before he could catch himself.

The report of another weapon almost on top of them startled Michelangelo for an instant, before he realized that yet another man was bearing down on the woman. She wasn't bothering to cower - the woman took off in the direction they'd just come from, with the man directly on her heels. Michelangelo wanted to curse, but yelled at the others once more instead.

"Guys, I have to get her, just GO!"

He didn't wait to see if they would obey, but tore back up the ridge after the fleeing woman, and the gunman chasing her. Within four strides he was in range of tackling the rebel, and took him down using all the weight he possessed. With the man on the ground, the orange-masked turtle looked around for Rebecca, but didn't see her right away.

Michelangelo continued climbing a couple more feet, straining to hear what could be happening on the ridge above him, while also trying to figure out where this girl could have gotten to so fast. As he approached the blind side of a curve, a voice called to him so softly that he would have missed it if he hadn't been paying attention.

"Here, get in here quick!" Rebecca's hand darted out from a crevice that looked nearly invisible in the darkness.

Mike was relieved to see her, but also urgent to get moving again. "We can't stay here," he hissed at her. "Don't you want to get off this thing?"

Rebecca motioned to him severely to keep his voice down further than he had. "They're close," she said, still hardly audible. "Very close. I heard them talking, I think they're going t-"

The woman didn't get to finish, before what sounded like an avalanche of bodies jumped from the ledge above them. Michelangelo rolled his eyes heavenward, as he realized the new masses were cutting off their escape route. The only choice he could immediately muster was to attempt to plow directly through them, or keep retreating the way they'd already come, where more of these goons would certainly be waiting.

Michelangelo shifted uncomfortably behind their hidden perch, his mind reeling with possibilities of what could go wrong. He wasn't truly satisfied with either one of the choices. As he held his breath imagining what Leonardo would try in this spot, yet another previously unexplored option occurred to him. Michelangelo couldn't see the face of the river that raged under the very cliff they'd been traveling on, but the sound of it had been accompanying them for several minutes now.

On a whim, he turned to Rebecca. "How deep would you say that water is out there?"

"The river?" she exclaimed, finding difficulty in keeping the question quiet. "We can't - that's suicide! We'd have a better chance of surviving being struck by lightning. The rocks alone-"

"I think it's pretty much suicide to stay _here_, don't you?" the turtle interrupted grimly. "But we've gotta make a choice. Either we can try and hope for the best outcome, or we can hand ourselves over to the morons out there. If I thought I could hold all of them off long enough, I'd be happy to let you make a break for it. But there are so many guns..."

"You'd give your life for me?" Her voice was tinged with some kind of emotion that he couldn't identify.

"I'm here, aren't I? This whole thing was one of the biggest suicide ventures we ever took on."

She exhaled quietly. "I'm sorry you got involved; I'm sorry it has to end like this. It would have been better if you hadn't found us at all. Then again, this is exactly what I prayed for. I asked God to make a way out for Marc, and it seems like He has."

"Actually, I should probably be apologizing to you too," Michelangelo said seriously.

"Why?"

Rather than answer her, the turtle threw both arms around her waist, dragging the young woman physically off the ground. She hardly had time to be stunned by _that _move, before Michelangelo darted out of hiding, and ran for the edge of their path. The turtle almost felt like he was caught in slow motion, as he attempted to pick up as much speed as he could within the short distance, before lunging off the cliff toward the flooded river below.

* * *

Leonardo and Donatello had been waiting out Raphael and Brandon in the brush nearby the quarry. They were trying to stay there until they received the radio contact that would confirm where the others were, and if they were getting closer. Both turtles knew full well they were still being hunted, but now an unnatural silence had filled the air as the hunkered down close to the ground.

Donatello felt like they'd been waiting for ages, though he was certain it hadn't been as long as it seemed. He fidgeted nervously in his crouched position, and shot Leonardo a pointed glance. "Since we've got the time, I figured I'd ask..."

"Why did I pull you to come with me, instead of Mike?" Leonardo suggested casually, as if they really were on nothing more than a picnic.

"You may be becoming a mind-reader."

"I knew you'd wonder," the blue-masked turtle replied. "I was only thinking of that girl. She's got to be completely overwhelmed, and Mike...well, you saw him with Kirkland. He's got that gift for putting people at ease, without even trying that hard. I remember Luke saying something similar, the night that he first met all of us."

"That feels like about a hundred years ago right now, doesn't it?"

Leonardo only snorted in reply, but then shifted from his own stance in a way that instantly revealed his true nerves to Donatello.

"It's too quiet, isn't it?" the purple-masked turtle ventured. "I don't want them shooting at us, but this just feels..."

"Like we're lying in wait for something bigger?"

"There's not enough room in my head for _both_ of us Leo."

"Not with that brain of yours, there sure isn't," he answered ironically, and then caught his breath when he heard the click of his radio.

"Leo, Donny, you guys still out there?"

The blue-masked turtle shot Donatello a triumphant fist, before hitting the button to respond. "We're ready when you are Raph. Watch your step, there's all kinds of unfriendlies in the vicinity."

"All the more reason we ought to split. I never been one to run from a fight Fearless, but we don't have fire to fight _their_ fire."

"We're on the same page Raph. Donny and I will start heading down along the edge of this thing - what's your position?"

"We're not far from the quarry, if we all head that direction, we're bound to catch up with you."

Leonardo replaced the radio on his belt, and nodded at Donatello. "Time to go."

They emerged from the tree-line into unobstructed moonlight for the first time that evening, their senses alert for the sounds of anyone that could be nearby. All they heard was the same dead silence, an empty lie that was trying to portray that they were alone out here. Even the intermittent wind had died down, leaving nothing behind but stillness.

Donatello missed having the use of his scanner, which he'd intentionally sent back with Greg so that Luke could use the machine. He would feel better if he could see the positions of all the characters in play. The two turtles raced alongside the small canyon that was serving as the landmark to reconnecting them with the others.

A couple of minutes had passed already when Donatello _did_ hear something odd, a distant whistle that reminded him of the sound of fireworks going off over the Bay at home. He looked over his shoulder, in time to see trees go up in flames not fifty feet away from them.

"_Leo_!" he hardly had time to gasp, before the sound of more of the incoming whistles made his heart drop out of his chest.

A flash shattered the darkness much closer by than the last one, and he felt Leonardo's arms from behind. It was hard to say whether he was trying to simply protect him, or spur him on faster. Donatello guessed it was a combination of both. The third projectile landed so close-by that the sound of the explosion was deafening. The force of the blast sent searing heat across the landscape, even as it lifted both turtles completely off their feet.

It all happened so fast, that Donatello could barely comprehend the fact that he was hurtling out of control, tumbling down the canyon. He was aware of heat still radiating from the back of his left leg, and even more aware of the jarring blows and bruising that was occurring with every rock he struck on the way down. He tucked his head protectively, but couldn't keep it completely out of the way on the mad descent.

A parting strike clouded his vision slightly, and he finally dropped off in the dust at the bottom. Donatello fought to maintain a clear head as he lay motionless on his shell for a few seconds, choking on the clouds that had been raised around him. Then he got both arms underneath him, and looked around with blurry eyes.

Donatello raised a hand to massage where temple had hit stone. He wasn't surprised to find that he was bleeding, but there was also a sense of relief that the damage hadn't been worse. He started trying to work his way upright, as somewhat groggy thoughts were still trying to piece together what had just happened. The purple-masked turtle stumbled precariously on his leg, clenching his jaw against the burning pain that traveled the entire length of it.

_Aw shell, seriously? _

He couldn't see the source of the issue, but it felt very much like something had been buried in the limb itself, a sharp material serving as the source of all that heat.

_Darn it, Doc's gonna kill me with his bare hands._

That thought was the last thing to run through his mind, before he suddenly remembered Leonardo. Panic canceled out his own pain, as he scrambled across the ground to look for his older brother. Donny staggered the first few steps on the injured limb, but he was still able to support his weight. Within another two yards, he saw what he assumed had to be Leonardo's shadowed form, lying in a helpless heap on the earth.

Without thinking about it, Donatello fingered one of several pieces of shrapnel that were buried in his brother's shell, and had to withdraw his hand instantly from the burning metal. He left Leonardo on his plastron where he'd found him, as he quickly searched for a pulse. The purple-masked turtle let out a massive breath when it throbbed strongly under his touch.

He handled his brother's head carefully, probing for injuries that had occurred either in the initial blast, or the descent that had followed. His shell seemed to have borne the brunt of the shrapnel, though he found some smaller pieces embedded in his skin as well. Leonardo was bleeding from a number of places, but none more than the gaping gash in his forehead, from where he'd likely struck the limestone slab.

Donatello fervently hoped he hadn't been fractured somewhere else that he couldn't see, as he yanked off his backpack to find sturdy enough fabric to bind it with. He had only started to tightly knot a frayed piece, when another cloud of dust alerted him that someone else was approaching. The turtle jolted to his feet with a small grunt of pain, and whirled around with bo in hand to face whatever was coming. He wouldn't be able to stand very long through a hailstorm of bullets, but he wasn't leaving Leonardo either, that was for certain.


	35. Chaos

***Should start looking dangerously familiar right about now. Don't skim though, it's been...expounded.**

* * *

Donatello stood tensed and determined to fight, but the familiar shape of his _other_ older brother made the purple-masked turtle lower his weapon with a great sigh of relief.

"Donny, what happened? Are you...Is Leo...?" The red-masked turtle didn't finish either question when he caught a good glimpse of his brother on the ground.

Donatello moved swiftly to cut Raphael off from touching Leonardo, or accidentally being burned. "We got caught in the fringe of something, probably a mortar round. You know that heavy artillery that Kirkland was referring to? I believe they're breaking it out on us."

"I saw those flashes! Is he gonna be all right Donny? Are _you_?"

Donatello had already whipped his cloak tighter against his own frame, doing his best to conceal his injured leg for the time being. "I'm fine," he lied, "Leo's life signs are strong too. We're just got to get the shell out of here!"

"We have incoming!" Brandon's voice carried from a couple of feet away, motioning urgently toward the streaking light that appeared almost like a falling star.

The round bounced against the opposite end of the quarry, and nothing else was needed to spur them onto action. Donatello shouldered Leonardo's weight as carefully as he could, and jerked his head at Raphael. "Lead the way Raph - I've got him."

* * *

Donatello tried desperately to control his own breathing and heart-rate as he ran, but it was a losing battle. The guns behind them still didn't lend them the option of stopping, but the fiery pain in the back of his leg was also making it difficult for him to keep going at their current pace. The purple-masked turtle had followed Raphael blindly back into the brush several minutes prior, without a clue if they were even traveling in the correct direction anymore.

Leonardo hadn't even so much as stirred from the grip that Donatello was carrying him in yet. Until now, protecting their brother and their own shells had been their driving thought, but with passing minutes had come further anxiety, and Donatello found himself wondering where the others were, or if they'd managed to reassemble safely. He couldn't answer either question, so it seemed futile to focus on it right then.

Donatello needed all the concentration he could muster to keep sight of Raphael running ahead of him in the semi-darkness with Brandon, and the fight to keep what was becoming a shaky balance over the rough terrain was distracting him. All the while he was also listening, straining to pick up any sounds behind or around them. He didn't want to overreact to them - it could just as easily be Michelangelo or one of the others tracking them down, as one of the gun-toting men. He simply felt the need to be prepared for _anything_ at this point.

Leonardo's worthless radio shifted on Donny's belt along with his jaunty step, and he cursed the mortar round that had knocked it out. Things hadn't gone exactly according to the plan. That is to say that running blindly through the trees with God knows how much fire power behind them hadn't been on anyone's agenda for that early morning mission.

As Donatello crashed through another set of over-hanging limbs, he heard the sound of faint whistling overhead, which only took half a beat to click with the turtle again. "GUYS, DOWN!" he shouted as he lunged to the earth himself, covering his oldest brother's prone body with his own.

The mortar shell exploded somewhere in the middle of the space that separated him from the other two. When the purple-masked turtle looked back up through the clearing smoke, he was both irritated and relieved to see his red-masked brother standing over him and Leonardo.

"Didn't you hear me _yelling_ at you?" Donatello demanded, as he struggled upright with the most difficulty yet, a fact that didn't seem to escape Raphael.

"You _are_ hurt!" his brother said accusingly.

"I'll make it!" Donatello shot back through gritted teeth, taking a second to swipe once more at a blood trail that was nearly running into his eye. "We've got to keep going. Where's your guy Raph?"

"I told 'im to stay put. Donny, I can handle Leo for you. Why don't you just concentrate on getting _yourself_ around?"

"I told you, I'm all right," Donatello insisted, reaching for his blue-masked brother on the ground. "Somebody's got to have their hands free to fight Raph!"

Raphael shook his head at his stubborn younger brother, but his appraising glance looked satisfied that Donatello was capable of continuing. "You've gotta speak up if you need help Donny."

"I will Raph. Now can we get moving again _before _they catch up with us?"

Donatello shifted Leonardo into a more secure grasp, and mentally prepared himself for the knifing pain of the shrapnel that was embedded in his leg. Then he intentionally cleared all thought of pain from his mind as he fell into step behind Raphael, continuing to feed off the pure adrenaline that was racing through him. Donatello stayed close to the red-masked turtle as he led the way to where he'd left Brandon waiting, but he wasn't prepared for the mighty curse that escaped his older brother.

Donatello was about to chide him for the unnecessary noise, when he saw the _source _of Raphael's sudden consternation. The man was lying face-down in the small clearing, at a disturbingly unnatural angle. Neither turtle hesitated any longer; both rushing to get to his side. Donatello was slightly behind Raphael, and had to take a couple more seconds to put Leonardo down before he could join the red-masked turtle, who was already carefully shifting the man onto his back.

"Easy Raph, watch his head!" Donatello proclaimed, as he shot to his feet so fast that his left leg almost gave out on him entirely.

Raphael was bent over Brandon anxiously, so that Donatello couldn't even get a good look at him. "Give me some space Raph, you have to let me see him!"

"I knew he got shot Donny, I knew he was hurt! He said he could keep going, he was talking like it was okay!"

His brother still hadn't moved, and Donatello was losing patience. "Raph, let me in there! Where was he..." The turtle trailed off slowly when he saw the location of the two rounds the man had taken.

Donatello probed the make-shift wrap on his side to find it completely soaked through, as if he'd been bleeding out the entire time they'd been running. More disconcerting than that discovery was the lack of rising in his chest, indicating that he wasn't breathing.

"_No_," Donatello said softly under his breath, searching Brandon further with his hands to convince himself that part of the human was still alive. The intense probing only revealed the lack of a heart-beat as well.

He furiously pumped the human's chest, unwilling to accept that the man could already be too far gone for his efforts to do any good. Raphael struggled to apply stronger pressure to bleeding, around the CPR his brother was performing. Every minute that passed left Donatello more desperate, as he received no response from the man beneath him on the ground.

Donatello felt a tense hand on his shoulder, jarring him away from the life-saving activity he was still committed to.

"Donny, something's closing in on us," the red-masked turtle stated flatly, as both sai leaped to his grasp. "We're not gonna be able to stay here."

Donatello didn't respond, acting as if he hadn't even heard him. All he could do was stare at his friend who already looked much more dead than alive - and there probably wasn't a darn thing he could do about it. The panic seizing him for Brandon made it difficult to hold back tears, even as a numb indifference to being captured or killed himself spread over his mind. A dozen different scenes flashed before his eyes, and he choked on a sob at the vivid memory of standing back to back with Brandon against the the Akiudo.

_I swore to myself then that I'd protect him, that I'd make sure he got out!_

"Raph, it can't end like this, it CAN'T!" The words exploded from his mouth, and he no longer cared who heard them.

* * *

Luke knew his targets were nearby - they had to be. No one had been in the mood to listen, which explained why both April and Kirkland were trailing along right behind him, heedless of the noise they could have been making for a change. That wasn't for a lack of trying on Ryan's part; Luke was simply past the point of trying. They'd left the Jeep in the closest accessible place a few yards out, and were finishing up running the last of the distance on foot.

As Luke forced his way through the brush, he didn't even see a looming figure before he got jumped by him, or have a chance to utter a sound before a familiar point was bearing down on his throat.

"Raph _don't_!" April's voice rang out from behind them, and that was when the turtle seemed to realize who he'd actually caught.

"Doc!" Raphael had rarely sounded _that_ overjoyed to see him, and it wasn't the greeting Luke expected. He'd counted on being sharply berated for disobeying Leonardo's instructions to stay put unless otherwise directed, which was the only reason he hadn't attempted radio contact before tracking them down with Donatello's location software.

The turtle pulled him back to his feet, suddenly heaving as if extremely upset. "Leo's hurt, and Brandon...oh God, he's not..."

Luke didn't wait for him to finish. He could see what was presumably Donatello on the ground a few more feet away, doggedly pumping Brandon's chest as if he would never quit. Luke shrugged out of his bag before he even reached him, and took in the sight of the man with a flash of terror. He swiftly steeled himself against the emotional response, and began digging inside of the pack.

"No pulse, no breath Doc! He was bleeding too heavily while we were running-" the purple-masked turtle said with extreme difficulty, his voice wavering through the words.

"How long Donny, have you kept track?"

"Gotta be pushing ten minutes!"

"We could still have a chance at this - give me a little room!"

Luke had a supply of ephifine on him, a chemically altered version of an adrenaline shot that he and Donatello had adapted specifically for the turtles' use. There was a strong possibility, however, that it could perform the same necessary function for Brandon. As Donny lifted his hands from the man's chest, Luke brought the point of the needle to bear directly where he knew the heart muscle had to be. Luke trembled as he tried to detect a heartbeat, and almost assumed he was imagining it when a mild throbbing met his hand. The shuddering breath that followed a few seconds later couldn't be argued with though.

"Got him - we've got him!" Luke cried to the others nearby, as the focus of his attention then turned to the heavy bleeding coming from Brandon's side.

Luke didn't want to move the man again before dealing with this correctly. As he was shifting to retrieve something else from his bag, he didn't miss the way Raphael had to _help_ Donatello get to his feet. "You're hurt too, aren't you?"

"Yes," the purple-masked turtle acknowledged. "But I'm okay, it isn't life-threatening. Leo's vitals seem to be strong, but he's dealing with a bad head injury of some kind, in addition to other complications."

Luke took complete charge immediately. "Right, here's what needs to happen. April and Kirkland, help get Donny and Leo back to the Jeep. Donatello, get yourself and your brother a dose of noraphim right away, head off the probability of going into shock. Then the three of you start breaking open every single instant cool pack we've got, have them ready to use for Brandon! Raph, I'm going to need you here."

As they disappeared, Raphael hovered low to the ground a couple paces from where Luke was applying what looked like a _sponge _to Brandon's side. "What are you doing Doc?"

"It's a product called 'QuikClot'**, **the military has been using it on the battlefield for awhile now. It should help to control his bleeding until we can deal with it more effectively. This shouldn't take much longer."

"What's the deal the cold packs? What are they supposed to do for him?"

"When the brain is starved of oxygen, there's always the chance that neurological damage can occur! Some studies have shown that by lowering a patient's temperature during recovery of an episode like that one-"

"An episode Doc? Is that really what it's called?"

Luke continued as if that turtle hadn't interrupted him. "If we can get his body temperature down even a couple of degrees, it can significantly improve his chances of surviving _without_ brain damage."

The red-masked turtle started to say something, when his attention was drawn quite suddenly by streaks of light across the sky. "Not again," he said under his breath so that Luke barely heard him, and then got louder. "Doc, _hurry up_, we gotta go!"

Luke was still in the process of wrapping gauze over the application, when an explosion of flames several feet from them must have settled things in the turtle's mind.

"You'll have to finish that in the Jeep!"

Luke knew he was right, even though he wasn't crazy about the idea of moving Brandon yet. The red-masked turtle hefted the man over his shoulder only in an effort to move him quickly, and jerked Luke by the back of his collar to get him moving too. Luke barely had a second to snatch his bag, before Raphael was herding him out of the clearing.

They ran with the sound of incoming whistles at their backs. Luke felt the urge to look over his shoulder, but couldn't muster the resolve to do so. The others were waiting tensely in the Jeep, with Kirkland already behind the wheel. As Donatello reached toward Raphael to help get Brandon down on the seat, Luke made a disturbing discovery.

The weight he was used to carrying on his belt, the _scanner_ was missing! With a curse he turned back in the direction they'd come, and had only made it two steps before being captured under one of Raphael's arms.

"Raph, I lost the scanner back there! I have to get it!"

The red-masked turtle took one look at the flame engulfed trees, and shook his head sharply. "You're not going in there Doc - _I'll _find it."

"No you won't, there's no time!" Donatello insisted. "They're getting closer with every strike! Both of you get in the Jeep, and let's GO!"

* * *

***Just FYI...I didn't make QuikClot up, it's a real product. Our military really does use it, as well as some police forces. It's thankfully very effective.**

**Anybody wondering what's going on with Mikey yet? You know, the guy who jumped off a cliff? Don't look at me like that, I only presented him with the options.**


	36. Flood Stage

Michelangelo never had any intention of losing his grip on the young woman, but the force with which the river had enveloped the two of them had literally torn her out of his arms. Ironic anger struck him as he broke the surface that first time.

_One job shell-head - protect the girl. I haven't even done that!_

Everything seemed to be happening in fast-forward to the orange-masked turtle. One minute he'd been running along behind the young woman, doing his best to shield her from the gunfire. In the next they'd been forced to face limited options, and none seemed very desirable. Her own reaction to the choices had caused Michelangelo to make the decision quickly on his own, and take the type of action that he wished he'd had just a little bit of time to actually think over first.

The fall itself was the only period that seemed to slow time down, as the turtle mentally prayed that neither of them would be killed or hurt badly upon impact. The water in this stage should have been sufficient enough to cushion their landing, but they had no guarantee of missing rocks or any other obstacles.

The power of the river alone was enough to take his breath away, even before it dragged him back underwater. His knee jerk reaction was to continue holding it, instinctively forcing a calm center over the panic that rose inside of him. He could hold his breath for a pretty long time if he needed to, but the same didn't apply to the young woman who'd made the trip with him, and _that _thought instantly sent him into overdrive.

The turtle clawed fiercely against the current, before remembering the correct way to do it. He immediately relaxed and stopped trying to travel in a line directly for the surface, instead straightening out his back beneath him to provide buoyancy. The move helped him to reach the surface with about a quarter of the trouble that it had been giving him to begin with.

Michelangelo drew air back into his chest with a short gasp, only able to linger on the surface of the river for a few seconds before being swept against debris that almost took an eye out. The turtle ducked back under to avoid another rough collision and then surfaced again, his vision still somewhat blurry from the first beating.

He blinked several times to try and clear his eyes, waiting for them to sharpen back into focus. At the same time, a note of panic was beginning to sound louder in his ears than the rushing water around him. Desperation to catch sight of his charge grew in intensity. The fleeting fear that he'd gotten her killed after all made his heart beat faster, and he widened his eyes forcibly to take in a better view of the portion of river ahead of him.

Michelangelo couldn't help choking as he was nearly swamped again. He forced his head above the torrent once more, scanning the murky water that was almost impossible to read from the surface, let alone from beneath it. He tried to relax every muscle in his body to avoid fighting the current and tiring himself out too quickly, but he would be coming very close to throwing caution to the wind if he didn't catch some sight of her soon.

He was on the verge of outright despair when he finally saw her, or her head at least, breaking the water a couple of yards ahead of him. He gave up riding the strong current on his back and intentionally dove underneath the surface again, kicking his legs to propel him forward faster. The risk of hardly being able to see what was in front of him barely resonated in his mind, so great was his urgency to get to her.

The turtle's own weight and drive melded with the already forceful water to increase his speed, and in his haste he was flung quite unintentionally into a jutting rock. He turned his head at the last instant so that he managed not to take the blow squarely, succeeding in only side-swiping his jaw in a motion that still felt like getting slugged in the face.

Michelangelo was aware of the fact that he still needed to hold his breath, as well as the idea that someone else was still in danger, but his limbs were not immediately responding to the muddied thoughts that weren't cutting through the fog of his mind. Arms were the first thing to attempt motion in the water again, each limb feeling heavier than lead.

The water that entered his lungs was a partial wake-up call to his brain, and dazed blue eyes were alive once more. Again he struggled for the surface, gasping harder as he expelled water from his lungs a second time.

_I have to find her. I have to find her!_

Michelangelo scanned rapidly over the surface area of the water that he could see, before taking the plunge to speed up his course once more. At the same time, he mentally cursed the thrashing river that was making this so much harder than it needed to be. But then, jumping off the cliff had been completely his idea, and he hadn't given her any real say in the matter._ She's not gonna die because of me!_

He remembered to work _within_ the current this time, trying to use its' strength to his advantage. Part of him didn't want to bother with surfacing and breaking momentum, but he didn't want to miss anything important either. He floated back up the way he'd figured out minutes before, as an anxious query rose in the back of his mind, wondering how far the river had already brought them from where they started.

Michelangelo didn't have time to pursue the thought, before a flash of color ahead of him diverted his attention. It looked yellow, very similar to the fabric of the oversized pack Rebecca had been toting. He was on a track to bypass the rocks where it seemed to be wedged for the moment, and had to battle his way through the driving water to change course at all.

The orange-masked turtle got on hand on the outermost rock, and used the grip to help pull himself in the rest of the way. The effort alone was exhausting, but this was nowhere near over. Hand over hand on the rocks, he yanked himself over to the bag, and found the weighted remains of a fisherman's net partially holding it down._ If it's here, then where..._

The turtle didn't bother finishing the thought. He quickly dove to look for her, and almost ran into the young woman as she was struggling to rise, tangled in the same material as her bag had been. Michelangelo dragged her to the surface, where he found her obviously terrified, but still breathing.

"Are you okay?" were the first words out of the turtle's mouth, as she continued struggling with the remains of the net. The woman was breathing too hard to answer him, but managed a nod as he lifted her onto the largest of the rocks, that was presently keeping them from being swept further down river.

Michelangelo grappled to pull a knife from the sheath on his belt without losing his grip on the blade, and went to work on cutting some of the knots to free her. She grabbed for her bag the first chance she had, slinging it back over her shoulders as the turtle continued the process of untangling her. When the turtle glanced up at her from his work, he realized she was having difficulty even keeping her balance on the rock. The woman was still shaking, and now sort of sagging too, as if she couldn't handle her own weight.

_I can't risk losing her again, she wouldn't make it at this rate. _They were nearly in the center of the widest area of the river, the banks on either side feeling as if they were light years away. They couldn't stay in this crevice indefinitely - escaping the water would mean surrendering to it again first. _But not without some insurance measures. _

Mike looked down at the remnants of rope that he'd been trimming in his hand, and then back at her again. "We're going to have to attack this thing again," he said plainly. "But I want to make sure that we stay together this time. This might seem a little nuts, but I think it will work if you'll trust me."

Rebecca took one look at the netting he was still holding, and seemed to understand what he had in mind. "I might drag you down," she said honestly. "Not that I'd try to, but I feel practically like dead weight already. You'd have a better chance of making it if you left me."

"Nope." Mike actually grinned at her. "That's not how we roll. Stay with me here, I'm gonna need your hand for this."

Michelangelo backed up against the rock she was perched on, and they spent the following few minutes looping knots back and forth between them, until she was practically bound to his shell. The young woman tentatively wrapped both arms around his shoulders as he pulled away from the rocks, and the turtle took a deep breath.

"Don't let go of me if you can, and don't panic whatever you do," he said firmly. "We're gonna make it, I promise we are."

What his word would mean to her was questionable, but he knew she didn't really have any choice_ but _to go along with him at this point. The orange-masked turtle shoved his way back out into the current, and leaned his weight forward. It would make it harder for him to keep his head above the torrent, but it would probably be easier on the young woman. A deep sense of responsibility for her had already been instilled inside him - he had to get her out of this at all cost.

The darkness was beginning to give way to the pre-dawn light, enough for Michelangelo to see some of the landscape they were traveling by at a rapid pace. He saw no sign of mountains or hills, only trees, trees, and more trees, everywhere he looked. Fear clung to the back of his mind as he hoped the others had made it out okay. _I kind of made a mess out of that escape. I hope they're not too ticked about having to track us down._

The continual effort of using every muscle in his body and the relentless pounding of the water was getting to him. Mike was worn out; there was no way around it. The weight of the young woman on his back was somewhat limp, as if she was barely holding onto him. The knots provided enough strength to keep her attached, but he was still concerned about how she was faring. _I'm not going to be able to do this forever either. Shell, this water feels like its' getting _faster_._

As the water dipped down to follow a valley, he saw a clear sign of the increasing power of this beast of a river. They were approaching honest to God rapids, bigger than anything they'd encountered so far. Panic barely had time to resonate in his mind, before he noticed something else. A large dark shape was positioned a few yards ahead of them, something that looked very much like a boat, perched strangely still in the tumultuous water.

The turtle's brow furrowed as he considered it, wondering how it had gotten there, and then whether or not anyone would be on board. He contemplated the possibilities for disaster on both fronts, before deciding the rapids themselves had to be more dangerous than anything on that boat. With a circling motion, he tried to flow with the current, and manipulate the water into sweeping them in the right direction.

Being shoved into the unrelenting side of the barge was one of the most wonderful feelings he'd ever experienced. Using both arms, Michelangelo pressed against the boat, shifting his way to the right under the pressure that was beating against them. When he reached the outer edge of the boat, he craned his neck around the side, and laid eyes on another welcome sight. Where the water jutted further inland there was a natural cove, the only calm place he'd seen in what he estimated had to be miles.

The boat itself seemed to have been captured on the rocks that preceded the rapids, and if he could get the two of them over the remaining obstacles, it would be relatively simple to get them to shore through the cove. He let go of the barge, and allowed the river to plow him into the rocks with outstretched arms.

"Rebecca?" he called questioningly. Mike hadn't heard a sound from her in awhile. "We're almost out of here."

He felt her straining against him. "We...you made it?"

"Almost. You staying awake back there?"

Her reply was inaudible, and it made him pick up the pace. The turtle braced himself around the rocks, searching for an opening. The cove had to have a narrow inlet of some kind, or it wouldn't even exist here. Michelangelo pulled the two of them along until he found just such a gap, and breathed what may have been one of the biggest sighs of relief ever.

As the turtle made for the shore, his hand automatically went for the knife again, so he'd be ready to help turn Rebecca loose. Michelangelo had planned to go a little further before dropping, but his legs didn't feel stable enough. He lowered slowly to his knees so he wouldn't collapse, and tried to twist his neck to see the woman.

The ropes tugged at him painfully as her own body went slack, and he realized he was going to have to cut whatever portions of the knots he could reach on his own. In the first light of the rising sun, he glanced around slowly at their remote surroundings, and wondered what the heck he'd gotten them into.

* * *

*** What? You thought this story was all about poor Marc being kidnapped, and their valiant fight to find him? ::snickers:: My bad.**


	37. Fault

Dawn was breaking on the horizon when Ryan Kirkland began slowing down a little on the narrow path they'd been traveling. The maddeningly slow journey at least provided their guide with plenty of opportunity to scan the landscape around them, as the humans were searching for an ideal place to stop, before traveling the last of the distance back to Beni.

It had been a very frustrating drive for all parties involved. Without the use of the scanner, it was impossible to determine the extent of Brandon's internal injuries. The man was still unconscious, and no one could say for certain if he would come back around again.

Reception over the radios had been spotty, and they were having difficulty communicating with everyone else. The other team had made it back to the Jeeps to meet Luke, April, and Kirkland, before they'd rushed off to find the turtles who were still on foot. Greg and Tim had told them they were waiting out Mike and Rebecca, but they hadn't had clear contact since that time. The level of tension was such a strong undercurrent that no one had been talking, except when absolutely necessary.

If it had been up to Raphael, he would have preferred staying behind to make _sure _the others were all right, but the more time they drove around looking for some sign of them in the rainforest, the more time Brandon was losing. He gave the unconscious human another dirty look, and strove to force down the anger and guilt that had been brewing. Anger at the man for throwing himself in harm's way for his sake, and guilt that he'd been able to do so little to help him. The man's brush with death felt like it was his fault, despite what anyone else would say.

Donatello's somewhat glassy-eyed gaze caught Raphael as he was lost in thought, and the red-masked turtle shifted to face him. "You doin' okay?"

"I know what you're thinking, and you need to stop," Donny replied evenly.

Raphael immediately averted his amber gaze, but Donatello persisted.

"You didn't do anything wrong. The combination of the blood loss along with the physical exertion put too much stress on his heart, which caused the cardiac arrest. You didn't let him down."

"It shouldn't have been him," Raphael answered fiercely. "He had no right to do that."

"You're not actually mad at him for trying to defend you, are you?"

"How would you feel if _you_ were in my spot?" Raphael demanded hotly.

Donatello was saved from having to answer, as the Jeep came to a rolling stop.

"I think we've got a promising lead up on this ridge," Ryan announced to no one in particular. "Does anyone want to have a look?"

"Stay put for a minute guys, let Kirkland and I check this out," Luke told everyone else.

Raphael started to object, and Luke held up a hand to cut him off.

"Look after your brothers. We'll be right back."

The red-masked turtle flounced back against the seat with a growl of irritation, and rammed his fist on the back of it. Leonardo stirred on the opposite side of the seat, raising his head a couple of inches. He'd been lying on his plastron to keep pressure off the shrapnel in his shell, almost overlapping Raphael.

"I'm sorry Fearless," Raphael apologized, as the blue-masked turtle's eyes fought to focus on him.

"What's going on?" he murmured.

"Nothing - Luke and Ryan are scouting out someplace for us to stay," April spoke up from the front. "How are you feeling Leonardo?"

The turtle gave no indication that he'd even heard her, and blinked rapidly at Raphael. "What's happening with Brandon?"

Donatello cast a glance at the man braced beside him, before leaning over the seat to talk to Leonardo. "I don't know for sure Leo. His blood clotted really well, which is clearly a good thing. We can't see the true extent of his injuries though. He needs to get to that clinic in Beni, and April, I still think you ought to go with Kirkland. The others will be bringing Marc there too, it only makes sense."

The woman flicked the on and off switch on the radio as she'd done dozens of times already, and Raphael knew she was praying for something besides static.

Leonardo rested his chin back down on Raphael's leg wearily. "Haven't heard from the others?"

"No, not yet," the red-masked turtle told him.

The entire carload was relieved to see the two men returning, and Luke came swiftly to address them.

"Okay guys, this is where we're getting off. There's a cavern up there - head room's not great for _me_, but the thing hasn't been inhabited for some time, at least that's what he says." Luke jerked a thumb in Kirkland's direction, as the man was grabbing a couple of bags from the back.

Leonardo's head rose a second time. "What are we doing?"

"We're going to take a small jaunt up this hill, and get you guys some medical attention," Luke answered.

Donatello stayed behind with Brandon, while the others got to work hauling Leonardo and supplies up the ridge. It took a couple of trips for them to get almost everything, enough time that the purple-masked turtle seemed to be dozing with his eyes open when Raphael made it back down again.

"Hey, Genius."

Donny forced his eyes open wider when Raphael spoke up. "Is it time to go?"

"Almost - April and Kirkland should be coming back down. They were helping Doc set up a couple of things, and then they'll drive Brandon to Beni. Are you okay to climb this thing? You don't look so hot."

"We'll have to see how it goes." Donatello shifted carefully onto his feet, leaning both arms heavily on the seats for support.

Raphael knew his younger brother was fighting back a grimace, and quickly held out an arm to steady him as he climbed out of the Jeep. When he tried to take a real step, his left leg buckled completely, but the red-masked turtle was there to support him.

"Can you give me a second?" Donatello asked, as Raphael helped him balance against the edge of the Jeep.

"I don't know Donny, I doubt you should be walking at _all_. What's wrong, how were you hurt?"

"It was that blast, same mortar shell that got Leo. My left leg is killing me."

When Raphael acted like he was going to touch it, Donatello tried to block him. "I don't want you to cut yourself."

"Donny, lemme see it," he ordered.

The purple-masked turtle sighed softly, but didn't fight him this time. Raphael's mouth dropped slightly. He was stunned by the sight of the buried shrapnel Donatello had been concealing in the back of his leg.

"You're an_ idiot_," Raphael spat the last word as if it were a curse. "How could you tell me you weren't hurt?"

"Hurt or not, we couldn't stop."

"But you lied to me!"

Donatello winced as he looked back down at the ground. "I'm sorry Raph. I did what I thought was necessary at the time."

"You're_ still _an idiot!" Raphael growled, but the same anger wasn't behind it as before. "We're supposed to take care of each other."

As the older turtle's voice broke slightly, Donatello gazed at him with a look of understanding, as though he realized that Raphael wasn't referring to _his_ injury anymore.

"It's not your fault Raph," he said insistently. "It's not."

"He's not supposed to die for me!" Raphael verily exploded, and a sob finally rose with it.

Donatello stretched a hand toward him, and that was all it took to set him off completely. The red-masked turtle's head buried against Donny's shoulder, and he wasn't bothering to feel any shame for it. He was too consumed with all the emotions he'd been hardly containing up to that point.

"He's not dead," Donatello finally said aloud. "Let's not act like he's gone."

* * *

Raphael ended up enlisting Kirkland's help to get Donatello up the hill, as he didn't want to exert the wrong pressure on his brothers' injuries by carrying him alone if he could help it. Luke already had Leonardo down on top of one of the plastic tarps they'd previously used for shelter, now serving to partially protect him from the cavern floor.

The doctor looked up in surprise when Ryan returned with Raphael.

"You're gonna wanna see this Doc," Raphael said a bit grimly.

"Don't make it sound like it's hanging by a thread," Donatello complained, as his brother contemplated the right way to put him down.

"Why don't you set him here by Leo, and let me see what joy awaits me," Luke instructed them.

Every decent electric lantern they'd brought with them was already on, providing as much light to the enclosed space as possible. Luke examined the turtle's leg without outwardly reacting, and carried on his careful probe in silence, until Donatello craned his neck to look at him from lying on his chest.

"What are you thinking Doc?"

"I'm uh...I'm kicking myself right now Donny. I can't believe I managed to lose our only scanner."

"Doc, you wouldn't 'ave lost it if I hadn't been manhandling you outta there," Raphael pointed out morosely.

"You don't need to find more things to blame yourself for Raph, and you shouldn't either Doc. It's not like you threw it away. Both of your lives are a lot more important," Donatello replied evenly.

"I couldn't agree more - I just _really _wish we had it." Luke sighed. "There's a lot to do here, and we're already hampered by the environment as it is."

Donatello nodded, but said nothing more. He laid a palm on Leonardo's arm experimentally, but the blue-banded turtle didn't stir.

"I gave him a low dose sedative to help make him more comfortable, and he went back out like a light," Luke explained.

"Then make sure you treat him first," Donatello said.

Luke ended up needing Raphael's help with Leonardo more than he thought he would, having to utilize the red-masked turtle's strength to extract some of the deepest pieces of shrapnel from his shell. None of the tasks were anything Raphael was used to dealing with, but it least it was something to _do_. Donatello seemed to be drifting off a little, so they kept their voices down while they worked.

"Saved by the shell again." The doctor shook his head. "It absorbed most of the big stuff, there's only a few smaller shards that penetrated his shoulder, and the left arm there. It all has to come out regardless of size. This could get a little tedious, but at least these kinds of wounds usually don't bleed very much."

It took well over an hour and a half to remove what Luke could see and feel, and then they transferred the blue-banded turtle onto his back so that the doctor could double-check the work he'd already done on his skull. Luke's hand grazed Leonardo's jaw as he peered at the sutures for a couple more minutes, before looking satisfied with what he saw.

"There are more things I'd like to check, but I don't have the ability to without Donny's device. Let's get Leo covered up and let him sleep, maybe move him over a bit. Then I can deal with Donatello."

While Raphael was lifting his older brother, Luke's light hand on the purple-masked turtle's shoulder brought him around instantly.

"How's Leo?" he mumbled tiredly.

"I think he'll be fine. I'm pretty sure we got all of it, though some of the pieces are hard to see. I'm about to get started on _this_ mess."

Donatello turned his head further, and noticed the epi-pen in Luke's hand. "Doc, don't drug me okay? We've got a limited supply of meds out here, and I d-"

Before he could finish, Luke had already injected him in the shoulder not once, but twice for good measure.

"What's that Donny? I didn't hear you."

"Darn it Doc, you di...you did _so_," he forced out, as his forehead drooped against the floor.

"We can talk about it later," Luke said, patting his shell as he passed out. He seemed to feel Raphael's eyes, and glanced up at the turtle innocently. "It was easier than arguing with him about playing the martyr."

"No complaints from me Doc." The red-masked turtle exhaled sharply, as he fell back into a cross-legged position on the ground. "I'm sorry you're stuck with me. I'm pretty much the worst help you could ask for."

"I'm glad you're here Raph - you're not doing a bad job at all."

The turtle leaned against the wall of the cavern unhappily, and watched Luke take his time to carefully remove debris. "Is he gonna need a ton of stitches?"

"Yes, but not yet. I can't completely close him up for about four days at least."

"What? Why not?"

"Shrapnel wounds are extremely prone to infection. I have to be able to irrigate it every day, until we get past the danger zone."

"You're gonna make him stay off it too, huh? Donny's gonna _love_ that."

"Well, I've got you here to sit on him if you need to, right?"

"Now there's a job I can handle," the turtle replied with a small smile, but it quickly faded. "I don't get what happened with Brandon Doc. If he was that bad off, how did he keep going for so long?"

"Some of it is mental Raph. I've talked to Tim about officers being wounded in the line of duty, who never even realized they'd been shot until they neutralized the bad guys. There's one man in particular that he worked with in SWAT, he survived a .308 round that blew a fist-sized hole through his back. He never even stopped, just kept returning fire until he could safely call for help. On the other hand, there are incidents of officers who succumbed to non-vital wounds, because they simply panicked and gave up." Luke paused for a long moment, and then glanced at Raphael again. "It wasn't in him to back down Raph; he probably didn't even realize himself how much blood he was losing. I _know_ that this is hard for you to deal with, but I don't want you to blame yourself."

"That's a whole lot easier said than done Doc."


	38. Alone

Around the same time that the other turtles were settling into the cavern for the day, Michelangelo was trying to determine what he should be doing for Rebecca. He felt clueless, and found himself wishing that Donatello or one of the docs were here. He'd be happy to see _anybody_ at this point, but if he could only pick one, it would have been from among them.

He'd ended up laying the unconscious woman out on his still-soaked cloak, since he had nothing else to offer her. Michelangelo wasn't carrying a single thing on his person, with the exception of his traditional weapons and his knife. While he was grateful to still have those, he would have gladly traded them for some type of communicator.

Over the course of the last few minutes, he'd searched for her pulse several times. He was feeling extremely paranoid that something might really be wrong with her, and he couldn't do anything but watch her slip further away.

_Get a hold of yourself Mikey. She's breathing, and she doesn't look like she was hurt badly. You're just inventing things to worry about. _

But it was hard not to worry when they were planted out in the dead center of nowhere, and he was the only source of aid to a girl who didn't even know him.

Michelangelo peered over her frame for the umpteenth time, and his hand was drawn to the light brown bedraggled curls that were partially covering her face. The move felt intrusive, and he wasn't even sure why he did it. The orange-masked turtle reasoned with himself that he only wanted a better look at her, to see if she was injured of course. He absent-mindedly wondered if her hair would still be that curly when it had dried, before coming back to his senses.

Michelangelo rapidly withdrew his hand as if someone else was watching, and left curls where they'd now fallen to the side. He was experiencing a strange sense of awkwardness that made him want to get up and move around, but truthfully he was tired too, and he couldn't go far with her in this condition anyway. The turtle didn't bother budging from the position he'd taken up beside her. He forced himself to avert his gaze to take in the rest of their surroundings.

When they'd first "landed" on this shore, Mike had felt like he could sleep for a week. With the realization that it wasn't going to be possible, he'd found another reserve of energy that he didn't realize he had left. At the same time, all this sitting around doing nothing was only making it harder to keep his eyes open. With a soft sigh he rubbed his forehead wearily, before coming to rest for a few seconds on his bruised jaw.

He was dying to know if the others were all right, and what they could be doing at that very moment. Uncomfortable nerves over them had assailed him a number of times, as he strived to squelch the worry._ I wish I knew _something_. It's hard to imagine that the guys couldn't find their way outta that, I just wish I could know for sure. But no, I had to go and play the 'river' card. Real smart Mike - way to turn a nice normal escape into the wildest ride of your life. I'm probably in for the biggest lecture known to mankind when they find us. I'd be happy to sit through it right now, if it meant finding out about everybody else._

The orange-masked turtle rested his eyes for a minute, as an inner vision of Donatello crossed through his mind. There had been several instances throughout the years when he'd been able to pick up things intuitively from his purple-masked brother. It wasn't something either of them bothered trying to explain; they'd tried to accept the phenomena at face value. To put it simply, he'd always had an uncanny way of knowing when something was going on with Donatello, whether they were together or not.

His brother had once compared him to the youngest brother in a series of books by Madeleine L'Engle, and Mike had started reading "A Wrinkle in Time", just so he'd understand the reference. The human boy's particular brand of genius made Michelangelo scoff at the comparison, but Donatello had stuck to his own opinion on the matter. His brother was convinced that the heightened perception was a rare gift, even if they were the only two that shared it.

Whether or not either of them could rationalize the intuition wasn't the point. It had proved accurate enough times that Michelangelo felt like he could trust the gut feeling. His brother was alive; of that he was absolutely certain. The turtle rested both arms on his knees, as he wondered if Donatello could sense the same thing about him. He never had a chance to consider further, because the young woman chose that moment to stir on the ground.

Michelangelo straightened up and backed away to give her some room. A sharp exhaled breath preceded Rebecca opening her eyes, and his own breath caught at that instant too. Her irises were unexpectedly vivid, and startled him somewhat. He was trying to determine what color actually dominated them, when she seemed to focus on him.

A tight gasp escaped her as she scrambled part way off the ground, and backed directly into the winding trunk of a tree. Her fear was naturally a disappointing reaction to Michelangelo, but then, she hadn't had the chance to see him in the full light of day yet. He decided to try and not take it personally.

"Uh...hey Rebecca," he said evenly, not daring to move lest her spook her further. "It's still me. I'm the exact same turtle that I was before."

Her breathing didn't slow down as she stared at him with wide-eyes for a few more seconds, before forming actual words. "Y...you're real."

"Yup, and I'm probably more scared of you than you are of me," Mike told her, but she didn't seem to catch the irony.

"You are?"

"No, but I'll pretend if that would make you feel better."

A surprised chuckle escaped as she relaxed slightly out of the crouched stance, though she still wasn't making any moves toward him. "I kind of thought I was dreaming," she said honestly.

"Not unless we're having the same dream," Michelangelo suggested.

Rebecca gaze appeared to be faltering as her brow furrowed, like she was trying to recall everything that had happened. Michelangelo was startled when she turned back to him with a flash of anger in her eyes.

"You almost killed us!"

Feeling somewhat deflated, the orange-masked turtle looked at the ground. "I guess that's _one_ way you could look at it," he said stiffly.

Silence lingered in the atmosphere for a little longer, before the young woman inched toward him. "But you saved my life."

"That's what I was going for anyway," he answered, the guarded tone remaining in place.

"Thank you," Rebecca said softly, her voice barely registering in his ears. "I'm sorry you had to haul me around, I know I'm no light-weight."

To Michelangelo, that seemed like one of the oddest possible things she could have said. "It wasn't any trouble, and I'm the one who got you into this."

Rebecca broke eye contact with him to take in the environment, and climbed carefully to her feet.

"Whoa, hold on a second." The orange-masked turtle was instantly on his feet too. "Are you sure you should be doing that? I mean, you did pass out and everything."

"I'll take it slow," she promised him, venturing one step closer to where the turtle was standing. "We don't actually know where 'here' is, do we?"

He shook his head, a sheepish smile leaping to his features. "This is about as far away from my known universe, as the earth is from the sun."

"Right, you're from New York."

Michelangelo cocked his head curiously. "Yeah, lived there our whole lives. We've got some nice trees too, 'course they're mostly in one spot."

The faintest of smiles reappeared on her face. "Manhattan was _my_ great unknown. The two don't have very much in common, do they?"

Her question felt rhetorical, and she didn't wait for the turtle to answer it. "All the things that Marc told me about you guys, they have to be true. It would take someone very strong to navigate through that river the way you had to, with another person no less."

Michelangelo started to shrug, but then realized what she'd just told him. "Marc told you about us?"

"Well, he didn't tell me about the um, the..."

"Mutation. It's okay to say it Rebecca."

"He didn't tell me that part until yesterday, when you guys sent him that signal."

Michelangelo nodded a little excitedly, and thought she seemed to be repressing another smile.

"He started off days ago by telling me that all of you were incredible fighters, and that you might be coming after him."

The turtle shook his head. "He shouldn't have had any room to doubt that. This family sticks together."

"You're Michelangelo," she commented, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

"Yeah, sorry. I should have introduced myself, but it seems like my reputation precedes me," he said tongue-in-cheek. "And you're Rebecca, the chick of many tongues."

"I've never heard someone put it_ that _way before," she remarked, swaying slightly as she tried to take another step.

"C'mon now, sit down," Michelangelo urged her. "You're not ready for this yet. Are you hurt in some way that I'm too blind to see?"

She sighed tiredly. "I don't think so. The last few days haven't been easy, and then with Marc...I hadn't been sleeping at all the last couple of nights. It could be a little exhaustion, but I doubt it's anything serious."

"Exhaustion means you need rest, doesn't it?" Michelangelo filled in. "Maybe that's what you should do for awhile. I don't want you to worry Rebecca, my bros are going to find us. That homing thing that we used to find Marcus, I have one too."

"That's a relief to hear, but we still can't afford to sit around right now Michelangelo."

"Nobody really calls me by my full name. It's just Mike."

"Okay...Mike. The thing is, we need to get further inland from the river, and start searching for another fresh water source. In this heat and humidity, bodies get dehydrated very quickly. Now, I have portable purifiers in my bag, which should do the trick for the both of us. I'm not sure what else could have survived that kind of submersion."

Rebecca sank back to the ground out of necessity, as an overwhelmed look took over her face. "We're not quite prepared for this; we're probably missing some key elements..."

"Maybe," Michelangelo said thoughtfully. "But then again..." His gaze turned back toward the river, and landed on the barge. "What about that thing Rebecca?"

She tried to struggle upright again so she could see what he was referring to, and his hand helped steady her. "That's strange. I've seen those kinds of barges several times; they're used to help shuttle supplies and people in between cities. But they're not independent - they need like a tug boat to make the trip at all."

"So how do you 'spose it got here?"

She shrugged. "They can be moored in a certain city for weeks at a time without going anywhere, and people practically live on them for the short term. It might have been accidentally turned loose and just caught in the flood, or the tug boat itself might have been overwhelmed by the river. Some Captain could have been pushing his luck in water that was too rough for him, for the sake of earning a few more dollars. That barge won't last there indefinitely, that's for sure. Once the hull is breached, it'll be dead in the water."

"I think I might go take a look around, before someone sinks the battleship," Michelangelo said decisively.


	39. Scavenging

It was a remarkably surreal experience for Rebecca to wake up to the sight of Michelangelo, regardless of everything they'd already been through. Her light-headed state had made her wonder if she was seeing things at first. The minute he opened his mouth to speak, she realized that this was either a record length hallucination for her, or the turtle had to be real.

The blue eyes staring back at her and the relaxed smile that belied the serious circumstances that they found themselves in didn't seem to go along with the picture she'd conjured up of him in the darkness. All things considered, she knew her chances of survival had been vastly improved thanks to the stranger, but that didn't mean they had time to hesitate now. The sooner they found a reliable source of fresh water away from the river, the better.

As of this particular moment, Michelangelo was up in a nearby tree, retrieving some fruit that would serve to temporarily slake their thirst in addition to providing food. She was a little amazed to watch him climb as easily as if he'd been doing it his entire life. The young woman hadn't even wanted him to try it at first, concerned about the weariness he had to be feeling too. With another of his effortless smiles, he'd assured her that the couple of hours rest he'd had from the river were enough to tackle this new task. Her amazement had quickly turned to alarm by the tricks he was pulling to get around on the branches.

"Would you be careful up there please? What are you, part monkey too?" she called up after him.

"Nah, I'm part _ninja_," the orange-masked turtle clarified, as he centered his weight on another branch, and began picking his way down.

Mike was moving more cautiously now, adjusting the small pouch she'd given him to stuff the fruit inside of. Rebecca breathed a little easier when he reached the lower branches, but the turtle wasn't finished yet. He was still a good fifteen feet off the ground when he lunged into another maneuver to get out of the tree entirely. Before he could spring from the branch, the limb cracked through.

A gasp barely had time to escape her, before the turtle hit the ground hard on his back.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?"

Michelangelo shot up on his elbows with a grin. "How many points would you give me if I'd stuck the dismount?"

"That's not funny," she interjected. "You could have broken something! What would I have done with you then?"

"I only sprained my pride. You got anything in your bag for that?"

"_No_, so knock it off with the primate impressions. Are you sure you're okay?"

He leaped to his feet so easily from the prone position that she took a step backwards in surprise.

"Yup, I'm good. The shell is useful for a lot of things."

"That's about the _only _thing you have in common with a normal turtle, isn't it?"

"Mmm...not the only thing. I can hold my breath a long time too, and we're pretty much cold-blooded like them."

"You don't...You really don't strike me as animal," Rebecca said slowly. "At first glance maybe, because I've never seen anyone like you. To listen to you talk though, it's the weirdest experience. I think my brain is still trying to wrap itself around you."

"Yeah, it's weird, but you're not scared of me, right?"

Rebecca shook her head uncertainly. The small fear still present was taking a clear back seat to the confusion clawing at her mind. The turtle's probing blue eyes focused on her more strongly, as if they were trying to read the thoughts that she wasn't speaking out loud. The look didn't last very long, before he returned to business.

The turtle yanked off the pouch that was still looped over his shoulder, and grinned after he'd glanced inside. "Ta-dah!" he proclaimed happily, as he offered her the first pick of the fruit.

Rebecca was struck once more by her new "friend's" attitude. They'd hardly escaped the rebels and the river, only to find themselves in an unknown location in the middle of one of the largest rainforests in the world. Yet outwardly, he seemed nothing but positive, if not enthusiastic.

The young woman savored the juice from a mango, trying not to lose any of it as she worked her way through the fruit. Every ounce of liquid was precious right now, at least until they found a good supply. After leaving nothing to waste, she turned her attention back to the bag she'd already been unpacking. Michelangelo perched himself nearby to watch.

"So you've got something to make clean water for us?" he asked.

She held out one of two containers toward him. "It's called a 'Lifesaver Bottle', and the filter can run through several thousand quarts without needing to be changed. It's one of the best designs on the market right now, the way it can separate out the smallest forms of bacteria. I had protein bars, but the river ruined those. I don't think my bag was ever completely submerged for any length of time, but 'water-proof' doesn't mean the water didn't get in at all. We were in the river too long to avoid that.

I have a knife of my own, one of those little things my Dad taught me to never go without. A couple of changes of clothes, those are still drying out. Space blanket, that should be all right too. The compass isn't promising - I'm trying to give it some time to dry out, but I don't have much hope for it. First aid kit...some of it is definitely shot, but several things were pre-packaged to maintain their antibacterial qualities. I'm betting there are some things I could salvage from it. I always keep some fishing line and hooks in there too. Flashlight is dead, which is obviously unfortunate."

"What else are we missing?" Michelangelo asked. "I mean, we could ask for a ton more stuff, but what do we_ need_?"

"Well...my lighter is toast too. In a perfect world, we could use some kind of fire-starter. I know how to do it the hard way, but they don't call it that for nothing. It would also be nice to have some kind of material we could make a shelter out of, like a tarp or some kind of plastic. There's a chance you could find some helpful things on that barge, but seriously, don't go overboard. We have to be able to carry all of it comfortably. We need to move away from the river, partially because the insects are intolerable at night, but also because we're exposed.

The water is the lifeblood of these people in the rainforest, they survive off of it. I don't know what kind of villages might be nearby here, but I think it would be wise to limit the opportunities that someone might have to see you. Just keep in mind how much weight you want to be hauling around for miles, that's all I'm saying."

* * *

Even walking the length of the river-bank while the orange-masked turtle was gone was proving to require too much effort. Rebecca dropped onto a rock with a groan, as she waited to catch some sight of Michelangelo again. She could see the barge from here, but didn't have the right vantage point to make out the turtle's progress. She finally took her eyes off the water for a few minutes in an attempt to calm herself down, and began studying their surroundings more closely.

At first glance the green all seemed to blend together in a singular note, making it difficult to discern different types of trees without taking a more focused look. A familiar shaped frond caught her attention this time, and also made her get back to her feet in a hurry. The palm trees were a familiar enough sight in the forest, but she hadn't had the necessity for one in so long, the thought hadn't immediately occurred to her. One of the flowering branches was nearly hanging in reach - just a little bit further, and she might be able to get a hand on it.

Rebecca stared up at the uncooperative greenery as stretching on her tiptoes didn't do any good, and blew a stray hair out of her eyes with annoyance.

_Why couldn't I have been born six inches taller? Would that have been too much to ask? _

She leaned over her bag on the ground, and began sifting through what wasn't drying out to find something that might be able to help her. In a flash, the fishing line occurred to her, and she went down on her knees to thread a hook on the end of it.

Then she returned to her feet, and took a step back from the tree. Rebecca hurled the weightier end of the line toward the needed branch, hoping for it to catch on the frond. It took three attempts to hook the object of her desire, and she carefully pulled it down to her level, until the fingers on her free hand could grasp it. Then she let go of the still hanging fishing line, and scooped up her knife blade.

Rebecca cut off the tip of the flowering portion, and then dropped the blade hopefully. "C'mon, I know you're in there," she softly coaxed the plant. "Don't let me down."

* * *

Michelangelo was surprised when he returned to the side of the river, and didn't find the woman where he'd left her. He set down the tarp he'd tied up to haul precious cargo in. Climbing onto the boat itself hadn't been difficult, but he'd been disheartened by what had first met his sight. It had taken a little more digging to reveal more along the lines of what he'd been hoping for.

"Rebecca?" he called questioningly, careful not to rest the entirety of his weight on his right foot. Kicking down the door that connected to the lower deck had been worth it for what he'd found, but it had left a piece of _something _embedded so far under the skin, that he hadn't been able to retrieve it on his own yet. It was far from the worst pain he'd ever felt, but still proved a little annoying to walk on. "Rebecca, where are you?"

"I'm over here Mike, can you follow my voice?"

He left his bundle where it sat, and moved in the direction her response had come from. The turtle stopped in his tracks at the sight of the young woman gripping part of a palm so that it bent downwards in one hand, while she directed the tip of it over the bottle that was in her left hand. She'd removed the top of it completely, and didn't even appear to be using the filter for it.

"What's this?" he asked, tugging lightly at the fishing line that was still dangling. "Did you get a bite?"

Instead of answering, she withdrew the bottle from where she'd been bracing it. "Here, try this."

Michelangelo hesitated for a moment, but decided she probably knew enough not to be poisoning him. The small amount of liquid was a bit sweet, but not disagreeable at all. "That's pretty good. Will it keep making that stuff for you?"

"If I cut a thin slice off the tip every so often, the flow will keep renewing for a few hours. One shoot can produce up to a liter of fluid in a day."

"Then...more shoots equals more of that stuff," Michelangelo said logically, and glanced up a couple of the higher branches. "I found a couple of things that might make this process a little easier. Just uh...stay here, and I'll be right back."

Her gaze seemed very interested when he returned, hauling the tarp over his back like Santa Claus with his pack. "There was a lot of fire damage on board," Mike explained to her. "I didn't think I was going to find anything at first, but it didn't consume the whole boat. I found things below, left like somebody had run off in a hurry. I'll show you all of that in a minute, but lemme help you out with this before I do."

Michelangelo pulled a long cylindrical duffle out of the plastic, and unzipped the bag to retrieve a packet of stakes. "You wanted shelter, you got shelter. I figure we can use the tent tonight, but these would be more handy to use right now."

"I think I see where you're going," Rebecca replied. "If we had something else to tie down the branches with-"

"We do," he announced, drawing out a long coil of thin rope. "Do you want to start sectioning some of this off for me? I'll see about reaching us a couple more of those shoots."

She nodded. "This doesn't change the fact that we need to move further from the riverbed, but this is a start for right now at least. We're going to have to figure out something else to hold the liquid though, or we can't collect it from more than two source. I've only got a couple of those bottles..."

"And I brought something else from the boat that will work too," Mike volunteered. "Let's get on this, huh?"


	40. News

The purple-masked turtle wasn't a happy camper when he came around with a headache, still lying on his plastron on the hard cavern floor. He started to sit up, but felt weaker than he'd expected too. He twitched slightly at the sensation of someone hovering directly behind him, and craned his neck around to see Raphael.

"Just take it easy, okay? Doc said you could sit up if you wanted, but he doesn't want you actually on your feet."

Donatello allowed his older brother to help him into the proper position, and then accepted the proffered flask from him. "Where _is_ Doc? How's Leo? Do we know anything from the others yet?"

"One thing at a time Genius. Doc's outside - we can't get a decent signal off the cell-phones in here. He's talking with one of the others guys, apparently they just got into Beni with Marcus. He should be coming back with news for us soon. Leo's still sleeping, though he came around once about an hour ago."

Donatello carefully shifted his injured limb underneath him. "So I take it Doc got everything out of my leg okay."

"That shrapnel did some wicked damage Donny, that was pretty hard to look at."

"It was mostly superficial though, right? It doesn't feel like it anything's impeding the muscles or-"

"Donny, don't talk to me like I know what the shell you're saying," Raphael interrupted. "Doc wasn't acting like there was any permanent damage, no. But he couldn't stitch it yet-"

"Right, because he needs access to clean it out thoroughly," Donatello cut _him_ off this time, and then glanced back toward the entrance to the cavern. "How long has he been out there?"

"I haven't kept a minute by minute tally. Why don't you try relaxing for a little longer? I'll get you something to eat, and I'm sure he'll be back soon." The speed with which the red-masked turtle spoke was enough to indicate his nerves to Donatello, but he was clearly trying to contain them.

"Thanks for looking out for us Raph," Donatello told him.

His brother's amber eyes flicked back to him, and a half grin emerged from hiding. "Haven't had it too shabby here Genius, kinda like baby-sitting."

"Yeah, that's how_ I'd _describe last night," Donatello said dryly.

"No, last night was...I don't even want to think about that," Raphael replied with serious strain.

Donatello's head dropped a couple of inches. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go there. We don't need to talk about it."

They relaxed back into silence, and Raphael got to his feet to retrieve a packet of crackers from one of the bags.

"Doc said you'd be able to handle these okay. Man, it's been quiet in here. I can only imagine what it will be like with Mikey's big mouth bouncing off the walls. Leo better get all the sleep he can right _now_."

Donatello had only started to nibble on the edge of a cracker, when Luke returned inside with cell phone still in hand, and approached the turtles very slowly. The purple-masked turtle couldn't read the human's expression. He looked completely blank, as if he was deliberately trying not to give anything away with his face. Luke didn't speak to them immediately. He appeared to be mulling something over in his mind.

"What Doc?" Raphael finally couldn't seem to take it anymore. "Whatever it is, you may as well tell us. If it's...if..." The voice that had started out so strongly quickly faded with scared uncertainty.

"No one's dead," Luke said quickly. "At least...Brandon and Marc, they're both being taken care of. Kirkland said that there's an Indian doctor that traveled with those troops on loan from the UN. He got the bullets out of Brandon at that clinic, and they got some blood into him. The bullets didn't appear to impact any major organs, so he was fortunate in that sense. Life signs are pretty stable, though he hasn't come around for them.

Um...Marcus is still on oxygen, using a portable nebulizer now. It's not really enough for the breathing treatments he needs to clear up. The best thing for him would be to go home, and Brandon too I have to say. As soon as they're both stable enough to travel that is. The uh...Greg and Tim didn't have one of the phones on them, or we would have heard from them sooner. We all thought we'd be able to trust the signal on the radios to hold out, and that obviously wasn't the case."

"And?" Donatello asked, now completely on edge.

"You know they got separated from Mike and Rebecca last night. They were ambushed, and Mike had to run after her at some point, told the others to go ahead without them. They didn't. Greg and Tim were only hanging back a little, when more of the rebels got in-between them and Mike. They came under really heavy fire, Greg actually got grazed by a bullet. Things got too hot for them, they had to retreat, fall back into the forest to protect Marcus and themselves. They didn't _tell _me all of this last night when they got back to the Jeeps, just that they were waiting out Mikey and the girl. After we left, they ended up doing more than waiting. They started searching for them, got as close as...a lot closer to the rebels than they should have. They didn't find any sign of them."

* * *

When Greg and Timothy showed up at the cavern about an hour later, it was in one of the deepest stages of regret that either man had ever seemed to be in. It was with great hesitancy that they entered out of the darkness; as if they weren't certain if they were wanted, or could even belong in there right now. Raphael jerked to his feet to meet them, as they both stopped short of the turtles. The red-masked turtle's eyes fell on Greg's wrapped arm.

"Are you alright?"

"It nicked me, it wasn't even..." Greg couldn't finish without breaking, and a soft curse escaped him. "I'm sorry Raph; we didn't mean to lose him. We didn't want to leave, we didn't-"

Raphael wrapped an arm around the man just to shut him up. "Doc told us you did everything you could. It wasn't your fault there were so many of them Heff."

"It's impossible to feel okay about this. And we don't have the scanner to track him either? We couldn't have picked a worse time to screw up this way!"

While Greg couldn't stop words from spilling out, Tim was standing in stoic silence. Raphael read the guilt in Timothy's blue eyes as easily as Greg's, but there was a smoldering anger there too, which the turtle identified with easily. It was only Donatello's fast talking that had kept the red-masked turtle inside that cave at all after Luke had told them Mike was missing, with the unassailable logic that he had no way of tracing their youngest brother. Donatello had finished with a note of hope that there _was _another possible solution, if they acted in the right way.

"Guys, this ain't over," Raphael said a little gruffly to both men. "Don't come up in here all defeated. That's not the only scanner we've got."

Both men jerked at the news.

"There's another?" Tim broke his silence for that. "But then, where-"

"In Mbandaka," Luke reminded them. "When we first got into the country, remember? Mine got confiscated. It's still out there; we just have to get it back."

Greg suddenly stood up straighter. "You're darn right we will! I'll coordinate with our people in the States, and we'll get to work on this. This is my personal mission; I'll get it back for us."

"We have no way of knowing where they're keeping it..." Luke faltered.

"We'll have to go through the proper channels, and find a way to apply proper pressure to get it returned quickly," Greg finished, the same old determination returning to his voice.

"What about Brandon and Marc?" Luke asked.

Tim's eyes widened slightly. "We want them out of Beni as soon as possible. We've kicked around getting _our_ military involved for the safest transport."

"What's _that_ look for Tim?" Raphael asked.

The man yanked out a creased piece of paper to show him. In a grainy photo-copied image, they saw first Marc's likeness, and then the young woman's. There was also text in a foreign language and a cell phone number to go along with it, which the red-masked turtle could only stare at.

"What is this guys? What does it mean?"

"The rebels are trying to find them," Tim said tightly. "Kirkland went into one of those Internet Cafes in town, and found several kids using the copier of all things. They were making a lot of flyers, and then started to distribute them around the city. Ryan found some guy to translate it for him, and he says they're offering a reward on their heads. They paid off the kids to do the dirty work inside Beni, so they wouldn't have to risk poking around themselves. We're keeping constant supervision on Marcus, Kirkland's still with him right now. This is ridiculous - he just needs to get out of this region entirely."

"Don't you understand what this means?" Donatello's voice spoke up unexpectedly, from where he was partially propped up on somebody's bag.

"What does it mean?" Tim asked the purple-masked turtle, as he came to kneel at his level.

"The rebels didn't find them," Donatello answered. "Mike and the girl. Why would they bother to publish her photograph, if they already had her?"

No one said anything right away, as the reason of his words sunk into the fear that had been permeating the back of everyone's minds.

"That is a relevant question," Timothy acknowledged. "And I hope to God that you're right, that we didn't just leave him to..."

Donatello shook his head sharply. "No Tim. He's alive."

"You know that?" the man couldn't stop from asking. "Is there some other technological means, or..."

"I just know." Donatello sighed softly. "Over the years, I think I've hampered my own sense of intuition, _because_ of my technology. I've relied so much on machines to tell me what I needed to know, so that when Lilah fed me that line about killing Leo in Dayton, I bought into it."

He looked down for a brief moment, before addressing the whole group again. "Doc drugged me, unnecessarily I might add, but I don't need to get into that. When I was out of it, I felt him. I know I did. He's alive, and he's out there. _Where _is anybody's guess right now, but it isn't too late."


	41. Distraction

***Believe it or not ladies and gents, we've reached the half-way mark. Yup, another story ran away with me. I never go into these things _planning_ 80 chapters - it just happens. In any case, we've still got a long way to go, and a lot more Mikey to come. ::grins:: **

* * *

With the arrival of rain that evening, Michelangelo and Rebecca abandoned their project with the palm tree, leaving the larger plastic container the turtle had found on the boat to collect run-off from sheeting precipitation. They needed to remove the stakes from the branches they'd tied down in any case, so they could set up the small tent properly.

The turtle flushed unconsciously when the young woman praised him for his scavenging effort. He'd been selective, and obviously surprised her with a couple of his choices, ranging from necessary items to smaller conveniences like packets of some kind of tea, and a jerky that he couldn't even identify. Nothing he'd brought was bulky with the exception of the tent, and he could easily handle that weight along with a couple other things. The random extras would easily fit inside Rebecca's bag.

They retreated to the tent not long after night had fallen, and the skies had opened up above them. With the tarp laid strategically beneath them, they had a better chance of the ground where they would sleep staying dry. Michelangelo had been wishing for a fire, but realized that wasn't going to happen now. They'd been sitting in darkness for the most part, saving the flashlight Mike had recovered. That was until the annoying pain in his foot started to get the better of him again, and he requested the use of the light sheepishly.

Rebecca had already retrieved a needle from the first aid kit, and sat watching him attempt to get the sliver out of his foot for a few minutes, before clearing her throat. "I think I've watched this long enough. Will you let me try and get it now?"

"I'm almost there," he protested.

"You're no closer than when you started. Let's not waste the light, okay?" she said more insistently. "Give me your foot."

Michelangelo shifted position awkwardly, but didn't block her from looking at it this time. "Do you _have_ to use a needle?"

"It's pretty deep; I have to dig it out with something Mike. C'mon, this is no big deal. I can have it done in no time, if you'd just let me."

Rebecca's fingers felt as delicate as butterfly wings, but he still automatically squirmed when she got the tip of the needle closer. "Now_ look_." She sounded exasperated. "It needs to come out, right? Don't fight me, and it won't be that bad."

The orange-masked turtle forced himself to stay still this time, and she went on talking.

"So that was a different kind of dinner for you, wasn't it?" She wasn't even trying to repress the smile this time.

"I don't see why you couldn't have told me it was antelope to start with," he complained.

"I wanted you to try it first. Meat isn't the easiest thing to get around here Mike; even the natives don't eat much. It was a good find."

Michelangelo had located a substantial stash of the dried antelope which had reminded him vaguely of jerky. "I think I'll hold off on that again, 'till I get really hungry."

A chuckle escaped her, and he was suddenly fixated by the way the corners of her mouth turned up with it. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"I'm just a city turtle, through and through." Mike grinned. "None of this antelope or gator, or whatever other animals are out here. Somehow, the thought of killing my own food makes the idea a lot less appealing. I mean, no offense to the guys who _have_ to or anything."

"No, I don't think it's a bad attitude to have toward it Mike. It'd be nice if more people valued where their food was coming from, instead of mindlessly killing protected species like gorillas and the okapi-"

"Oh-whatta?"

"Okapi. It's a rare animal, only lives in a small region on this continent. Almost no one even knew about them, until about a hundred years ago." The young woman paused with a certain smile he couldn't identify, and then went on. "They're an interesting creature. They look like a mixture of a zebra, a donkey, and a giraffe, all tied into one."

"How does a giraffe have anything to do with the others? It sounds a little freaky."

"They're about the size of a horse, but they have striped legs like a zebra, their heads are more reminiscent of a donkey, and they have long necks for eating foliage. The giraffe is their closest cousin."

"Are you pulling my leg right now?"

"No, honest. They're real, and like everyone else in this country, their habitat is being threatened by conflict and deforestation." She punctuated the end of the statement by lightly yanking the sliver free, to hardly any noticeable pain from the turtle. "That wasn't too horrible, huh?"

"You distracted me," he said with surprise.

She shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? Let's save the flashlight now, and see about getting some sleep."

Michelangelo had a lot of things he wanted to ask her, but realized that she was still practically running on empty, and needed to get more rest. He stayed silent while she drifted off, and it didn't seem to take very long before her breathing was even. Then he turned onto his other side, and focused on the sound of the raindrops coming down on their tent.

None of the last 24 hours actually felt real to him, but darkness falling brought on a true sense of what they could be facing. Even in the best-case scenario, it could take his brothers days to reach them. They had no way of knowing how far the river had carried them, or what kind of roads the others would be forced to deal with.

On previous nights, someone in their group had always been awake to keep watch. Now that it had come down to just the two of them, staying up in shifts didn't seem feasible.

_Shell, I could try and stay up, but I can't do that forever, and it won't help me physically either. I don't think there's anything else to do but try and get some sleep, trusting that I'll hear something if it's coming._

He didn't like the thought, but he also didn't have another solution. It was an uncomfortable feeling surrendering to sleep, without knowing what else might be out there.

_Maybe it's better not to know. I guess ignorance can bliss for awhile yet. _

With a heavy sigh, he relented from fighting the weight of his eyelids any longer, and drifted off himself.

* * *

When Rebecca stirred in the morning, she was startled to not see the turtle. Her first instinct was to wonder if she'd been hallucinating everything after all, as she sat up slowly on both arms. But a patch of color beside her that was illuminated by the pre-dawn light negated that thought. Rebecca reached out to touch the material, testing to make sure that it was actually there. She unrolled the silken orange mask with interest, discovering that it was softer than she'd imagined it would be.

Then she folded it back up quickly the way that she'd found it, and climbed to her feet, grateful for the muscles that easily supported her now. Rebecca ducked her head outside the tent, and looked around their small clearing. The young woman breathed a little easier when she saw the turtle standing nearby.

_Did you really think he wouldn't be here? You don't actually believe you're going crazy. Yet._

But the woman didn't know _what_ to think of this stranger completely. He'd seemed like an other worldly figure the night they'd escaped from the rebels' territory; so deadly serious in the fashion in which he dealt with the gun-toting men who'd chased them. He didn't feel like the same creature that she'd woken up beside yesterday morning, with his eager expression and ready laugh.

Rebecca was about to call to him, but stopped herself as she tried to figure out what on earth he was doing. In the faint first light of day that made it past the canopy of trees, he was moving in a rhythmic fashion, with steps that reminded her of a dance. The shapes were fluid, one form moving seamlessly into the next, as if it were a pattern he'd practiced so many times, there was no question about what preceded or what was supposed to follow.

The longer that she stood there watching, the more he seemed to have in common with the phantom warrior of Marc's stories; the creature that had stood up for her, defending her with his own life. From the way his head tilted her direction, it seemed like he knew she was watching him now, and she shifted shyly in her stance.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's okay; I was pretty much done anyway," Mike replied over his shoulder, and stretched out muscular arms behind his shell. "That feels so much better. This sleeping on the ground stuff has never agreed with me."

He flashed her a smile, and he was once again her optimistic companion from the day before, looking even softer without his mask. Rebecca realized she'd just been standing there staring at him after a few seconds had passed, and hurried to recover.

"Oh yeah, the ground isn't much fun to sleep on. You get more used to it after awhile. How's our water situation look?" she asked, only to change the subject from her growing fascination with the turtle in front of her.

"It's not bad; the run-off collected a couple of inches deep in the pan. It's gonna need to be filtered, isn't it?"

"To be safe, I can run it through the bottles. I think we should eat a little for energy, and then get packed up to move further into the forest."

The turtle snapped his fingers in a way she hadn't realized he was capable of.

"I found something else, kinda like a banana maybe?"

She glanced at the pouch he'd scooped up off the ground again, and nodded. "They're plantains Mike; they'll be good to eat. Did you have to travel far?"

"No, I just followed some monkeys making a racket, and they led me right to them. The animals here don't know how to react to us, my brothers and I that is," Michelangelo told her.

_They're not the only ones...but then, we hardly know each other. Who knows what he thinks of _me_? _Rebecca thought absent-mindedly, as she returned to the tent to grab her filter bottles. _I think there's a lot left to discover here._


	42. Hearing

Donatello felt someone's eyes, and turned to see Luke studying him hard, as if the man was seriously perplexed by something. "What Doc? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"You're just...very _calm_," Luke said curiously.

"I told you already, he's okay, I know he is. Don't get me wrong Doc, I'm anxious to get out of here. We need to find him, and we _will. _But there's nothing I can do right now, and even if there was, you probably wouldn't let me," Donny finished sardonically.

"The truth is, he's probably a lot better off for having Rebecca with him," Kirkland volunteered from the other side of the turtle. Their "guide" had returned to their neck of the woods that morning, and brought some fresh food from the city with him. "If there was one person to be stranded with out there, she'd be a pretty good choice. She knows the country, she can speak the languages...I'd wager they'll do all right, but still..." His tone ended with a display of extreme nerves.

"Still what?" Raphael asked a little sharply. "Is there some new reason we ought to be worried about them?"

"Not a new reason, no, just the same old one," Ryan replied. "If their entire settlement dispersed, those rebels could have traveled several directions, not just toward Beni. I don't want to think about those men tracking them down in the wild."

"Mikey knows better than that." Raphael scoffed. "No way he'll leave a trail that those boneheads could follow."

Donatello's brown-eyed gaze traveled over to Leonardo, who'd been partially propped up against the cavern wall since he'd woken up earlier. The blue-masked turtle seemed to be in control of all his faculties, but he'd hardly said ten words in the last couple of hours. No one wanted to push the turtle to interact, and he hadn't bothered so far. To Donatello, it looked like his oldest brother had retreated to some other plane of existence.

Donny had noticed Raphael glancing over to where Leonardo was sitting apart from them too, with increasing irritation as more time passed. The red-masked turtle finally rose with a grunt and approached Leonardo from the left, nudging his side lightly as if to break whatever trance he was trapped inside of.

Leonardo reacted with lightning speed, snatching his brother's wrist in an iron grip and twisted it ruthlessly backwards. Raphael yanked his arm away from Leonardo with scowl.

"_Geesh_ Fearless, y' act like I jumped you or something! It's just me - exactly who were you expecting?"

Leonardo's dark eyes had widened initially, but now were utterly apologetic. He craned his neck in Raphael's direction, and sighed shakily. "I'm sorry for being jumpy Raph, I didn't..." Leonardo stopped mid-sentence, almost as if he'd changed his mind about what he was going to say. "You surprised me is all, I'm not really myself yet."

Luke got to his feet from the small fire circle, and came to kneel down by Leonardo. "Leo, are you having trouble hearing?" he asked him directly. "Tell me the truth, right now."

The turtle hesitated for a couple of seconds, and then nodded. "My left ear is...it's kinda like a never-ending roar," he admitted. "The right one is better, but still a little distorted."

Luke shook his head. "When were you planning on saying something?" he asked reproachfully, as he retrieved a small penlight from his pocket, and then bent toward the turtle to get a better look at him.

"I was getting around to it," Leonardo mumbled. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"Leo, you _have_ to speak up, do you understand me?" Luke proclaimed sternly. "I don't have the scanner to let me see what's happening underneath. You have to be vocal about your symptoms."

"I'm sorry Doc, I'm kinda freaked out right now, on top of everything else."

"What are you thinking Luke, tinnitus?" Donatello called over, resisting the urge to try and get up himself. He knew exactly what that would get him.

"With the proximity you two had to that mortar round, it seems like the most likely candidate. There's a chance that it could be related to the concussion too. It's impossible to say for certain, and I don't have the equipment to look at what I really need to see."

"What are you two saying Doc?" Leonardo interjected. "What are you trying to see?"

"There could be damage to the microscopic nerve endings that make up your inner ear Leonardo. It can be caused by a number of factors, and sudden or prolonged exposure to extremely loud sounds is one of them. In the case that it _was_ noise induced, tinnitus is usually temporary, lasting somewhere between 16-48 hours from the exposure."

"What if it's not temporary?" the blue masked turtle dared to ask. "What then?"

"We can cross that bridge if we even come to it, which we probably won't," Luke said firmly. "Is there anything else you're holding back, anything you'd like to share?"

"What good will it do?" Leonardo said sharply, though Donatello doubted his older brother's anger was actually directed at Luke. "Mike's out there somewhere, and we're stuck here with nothing to do but twiddle our thumbs! What does anything else matter when we don't have a clue where he is, or how much danger they could be in?" Leonardo's frustration spilled over loudly, so that it echoed off the walls of their confined space.

Raphael folded both arms across his chest in pure annoyance. "This figures. You probably wanna take credit for him disappearing, don't ya Fearless? Well, I don't wanna hear it. There's enough of the blame game going on already; you don't need to join the ranks."

"I _don't_ need a lecture from you Raph!" Leonardo retorted.

"Too bad, 'cause you're gonna get one for real if you don't knock this off. We can sit here all day in some kind of gloom and despair because we don't know where our little brother is, and you can disappear off into your own world of hurt. Or you can get real with Doc about your issues, so that we're prepared to act when we have the opportunity to!"

Leonardo focused steadily on another portion of the wall, and didn't even respond to him that time.

"Really Leo, this is how you wanna act right now?" the red-masked turtle demanded. "You don't have a clue how close we came to losing Brandon out there; the guy was basically dead before Luke got to us! He risked himself to save _my_ shell! You think that doesn't get to me, that I'm not fighting just to keep my head above water somehow?

But I didn't have a choice, I had to help Doc, so I did. You've gotta choice Leo. You can sink into this depressing hole because _everything_ bad that happens to us is automatically your fault, or you can be the leader that you are. You don't normally need my permission to pull that off."

After a few seconds, Leonardo looked up at him. "I'm sorry," he said faintly.

With a huff, Raphael descended to one knee in front of him. "Things might not look great Leo, but they coulda been even worse. As it is, Brandon's alive, and so is Marc...so are the rest of us. And Donny's 'magical' bond with Mikey is assuring us that he's still around too. We've got to let the humans work through this to get to the other machine, and then we're gonna find him. Let's try not to give him up for dead before we even start looking, okay?"

Leonardo nodded slowly, and glanced back at Luke. "I'm sorry," he repeated once more for the human's sake. "I'm still kind of light-headed, dizzy if I try to move too much."

"Headache?"

"Yeah, pretty severe as they go in my own recollection. Honestly, I could probably sleep for another twelve hours," Leonardo added.

"Sleep is probably the best treatment for you anyway, though some tea could make you feel better too, knowing you. I'll put a pot on, and we'll see about getting you more comfortable."

* * *

It was late morning by the time that Greg made his own way back out of Beni, to confer with the turtles directly about what was going on with the others.

"We're still keeping a close guard on Marcus," Greg informed them first. "Kirkland and I took turns with him overnight, and Tim is with him now. He's pretty shook up over everything, particularly with Mike and Rebecca still missing. It isn't helping his breathing get any better, that's for sure. I don't think he wants to go home as things are, but I'm voting that he doesn't have any say in the matter."

Greg paused for a long moment, and then continued. "I've been in contact with our military, and they stand ready to transport both Brandon and Marc back to the States as soon as we get the word that they're ready. I'd rather take 'em myself, but this way I can focus purely on getting that scanner from Mbandaka."

"What about April?" Donatello asked. "Would she be traveling with them?"

"We already talked that through, and it seems like the best course of action for everyone involved," Greg answered.

"How's Brandon look?" Raphael spoke up.

"He's still in there Raph, he was a little responsive this morning. We haven't decided when we're going to say anything about Mikey. Some of us feel like that's something to tell him on a 'need to know' basis."

"Don't cut him off too long Heff, or he's bound to get royally ticked," Raphael advised him.

Greg's glance traveled past the group, to where Leo was sacked out once more. "How's _he_ doing?"

"Physically?" Luke suggested. " He's trying to get over a bad concussion, and he's dealing with some hearing loss, which is hopefully temporary."

Greg cursed at that news. "Talk about cutting a guy off at the knees."

Donatello nodded in agreement. "All of our senses are so vital to us, the thought of any of them being impaired...It's difficult to reconcile. I don't blame him for being freaked out by this."

At Raphael's pointed look, the purple-masked turtle offered him a weak smile. "But I don't blame you for the lecture either Raph - I think it's exactly what he needed to hear."


	43. Brother

Michelangelo watched with an unusual twinge in his stomach as Rebecca's curls disappeared under one of her printed bandanas. He quickly averted his eyes as she turned around to retrieve her pack from the ground, and hefted the bag onto her shoulders. Only after a couple of seconds had passed did he look at her again, as if his gaze hadn't been locked on her the entire time.

"Waiting was the wise thing to do," she remarked. "I needed that rest; I really am feeling better today."

"Glad to hear it," he told her, as he scooped up the duffel bag housing their tent. "What's our first step here?"

"The easiest way to locate a source of fresh water deeper in the forest would be to follow the animals," she replied.

The orange-masked turtle looked around in an exaggerated motion. "Hear that guys? Are there any animals around here to give us directions?"

She laughed softly. "I was thinking more along the lines of following a gaming trail; but if you've got some amazing talent as the wild animal whisperer, by all means, be my guest."

"I think your plan is better." Mike grinned.

Rebecca shared a couple things with him to be on the look-out for, and they split up to search for the trail a few yards apart, looking for obvious signs of animal movement. When Michelangelo heard her excited cry a few minutes into their search, he figured she'd already hit on something, and trotted quickly her direction.

He didn't see the young woman right away in the brush, and stood absolutely still as he waited to catch some sight of her again. "Rebecca?"

The young woman popped up from a crouched position near the forest floor, a few feet to his right. When she straightened up to stand next to him, a secret thrill ran through the turtle. All the brothers were pretty much used to their human companions towering over them, but Rebecca was only slightly taller than him. It was a nice feeling to be standing almost level with another person.

He blinked rapidly to prevent himself from staring at her goofily, rejecting the automatic compulsion to do so. If she caught any indication of the thoughts currently racing through his mind, she certainly gave no indication of it. "What were you doing? If you wanted to play hide and seek, you should have clued me in." Mike forced a laugh.

"I found bamboo shoots!" Rebecca said happily, as if she'd just discovered that chocolate bars really _did _grow on trees.

"And this is...good?" Michelangelo smiled, feeling more relaxed at the sight of her enthusiasm.

"It's great," she replied. "They're a fantastic source of protein, and they can supplement us really well while we're out here. They're also not half bad if you boil them, and then let them soak overnight. Since someone was clever enough to salvage us a pan, we can actually do that."

He waved off the compliment. "Food is always on the brain as far as I'm concerned; grabbing that thing was second nature."

"Marc told me that you're an exceptionally good cook."

"I don't know about the _exceptional_ part, I just enjoy it," he replied casually, and then glanced around. "I don't suppose we know where we're going yet, do we?"

She nodded swiftly. "Following tracks is actually how I found the shoots to begin with. I'm sorry for the hold-up."

He shrugged at the apology. "You're good. So you _really_ know what you're doing out here, huh?"

"I ought to; I've had plenty of experience with needing to rely on the land to supply a lot of things. I've just never been the um...the one who..."

"The one in charge of the hopeless city guy?" he offered with a toothy grin.

"I wouldn't have put it that way Mike."

"No, it's the truth. I could _survive_ on my own, but I'm more than happy to be leaning on your particular genius right now. On the other hand, you don't need to feel all this pressure to perform or anything. Think of this like...well, like a partnership, okay? You're guiding our steps, and I'm protecting them. As long as you're with me, nothing and _nobody_ is going to hurt you, understand?"

She nodded with a solemn expression that seemed to weigh her down considerably.

"You don't know me or my brothers yet, but we're a pretty determined bunch. Once we start something, we finish it," Michelangelo went on.

The young woman exhaled softly and some of the lines left her face. "We'll get through this," she said with a renewed note of confidence. "I...I'm glad you're here with me. The wilderness can be a pretty unforgiving place, and I feel safer to be doing this with you."

Michelangelo felt some heat rising in his cheeks, and fought to control it. "Yeah, well, this is a mutual thing we've got going on right here," he stumbled a little awkwardly, and then smiled again. "So lead the way Annie Oakley, we've got some new territory to blaze through."

* * *

Rebecca was a bit unnerved by how little noise the orange-masked turtle made at first, and caught herself continually glancing around to make sure that he was still with her. There was obvious amusement in his blue eyes when she turned to look for him again.

"No magic tricks, I promise. I won't be disappearing on you, at least not without any warning first," Michelangelo told her.

"I've met a lot of people who could move quietly, but you have to take the award. I honestly don't think you need me for very much. You'd probably blend in better if you were on your own."

"But it wouldn't be half as much fun," He returned impishly, and earned another smile.

Mike shifted closer to her side, in a move she assumed was his way of making it easier to keep track of him, and to keep conversing while they hiked.

"Was that ninjutsu that you were doing this morning?" she asked.

"Part of it - those were katas. The building blocks of every good ninja, at least, so I've been told." Mike chuckled to himself. "I feel a little disadvantaged here. Marc's told you all this stuff about us already; I don't even know what I ought to tell you. And then I really don't know a thing about you, except that you're probably the greatest Girl Scout to ever grace the earth."

She shook her head. "I never had the opportunity to be a Girl Scout Mike."

"No, you just live your _life_as one," he clarified. "C'mon. Tell me something about yourself that I don't know."

"What do you want to know?"

"How about starting with that one dude, back at the settlement? Y'know, the one who let us go?"

"Nanji," she said softly. "I'm sure he's dead now."

Michelangelo actually stopped walking. "Hold up a second. Isn't he the guy who betrayed you to start with?"

Rebecca faced him with sudden surprise. "How did you know that? There's no way Marc had a chance to tell you."

"No, it was Kirkland, he-"

Rebecca's breath caught in her chest.

"What did I say?"

"You talked to Kirkland?"

"We've done more than talk; he sort of strong-armed his way into the group. He was determined to find you and Marc, helped us a lot actually."

The turtle cocked his head as Rebecca slowly sank to a rock.

"Mike...they told Nanji to kill him, and from what we saw...It honestly looked like he had."

Michelangelo shook his head. "Nope, he's alive. He's the one who told us exactly what happened, the one who called April. He said he woke up with a couple of casings on the ground..."

"Nanji faked it. He_ faked _it!" Her joyful outburst seemed to startle the turtle a great deal, as tears filled her eyes. "That makes me so happy, but...sad too. They wouldn't have let him live, and he wouldn't have tried begging for his life in any case. I'm sorry, would you mind giving me a minute?"

The concerned look that flashed through his eyes surprised her in its' genuineness, and the turtle sat down directly on the ground, without any appearance of being in a hurry. A shuddering sigh escaped her, after a couple minutes of silence had passed Rebecca stood up, reaching for her bag wordlessly. No matter how patient Michelangelo might be, she didn't want to waste the daylight sitting here.

As Mike fell in step beside her again, she finally opened her mouth once more.

"Nanji and I have a long history. He's only about four years older than me, and we practically grew up together. There was a period of several years where I called him brother."

"Brother?" Michelangelo echoed. "Y'mean like a good friend? Or did you love the guy?"

"Like family. He and my older sister Hannah, they were in love. They were going to get married," Rebecca stated dismissively.

Michelangelo didn't seem satisfied with that "ending" of the story. "What happened?"

"It didn't work out. He was hurt very badly, and he became bitter and angry. It ate away at him, until there was hardly anything left for me to recognize him by. But I believed that he was still in there, somewhere underneath. He proved that by helping us escape...and finding out that he didn't kill Kirkland only confirms it further."

She gave Michelangelo a sidelong glance. "Being betrayed by him felt like getting stabbed in the heart, but I already knew something was off. I just didn't realize _how_ off it was until it was too late."

"I'm sorry about your friend," the orange-masked turtle said quietly. "I know how easy it is to get close to people who aren't even related to you. When Marc disappeared, there wasn't really any question in _my_ mind whether we'd be going after him or not; only how we were gonna get the other humans to go along with it. They can get pretty protective when it comes to the four of us."

"From what Marc described, your family dynamic sounds pretty amazing." Rebecca smiled shyly. "And I think the fact that all of you risked so much to come here, it says a lot about your loyalty to each other. You're turning out to be everything that Marcus made you out to be, and it makes me want to learn more."

A slight awkwardness returned to the turtles' frame, as he paused in his stride again. "I think it's easier if we just say that we're starting from scratch right here. If I happen to repeat junk that you've already heard, you'll have to promise you won't get mad, okay?"


	44. Adapting

April was tired of sitting, but she was also weary of watching Greg pace. "Do you think you could sit down for while? You're wearing me out just looking at you."

Greg dropped into a chair nearby her with a sigh, but his eyes trained downward to focus on the floor.

"You know it's going to be all right," April mentioned once more. "The military will have things in hand, and they wouldn't have agreed to taking them if they weren't ready to travel. But I know there's more on your mind than Marc, Brandon, and I heading home. Would you like to talk about it Greg?"

"There's nothing to say, besides what's _already_ been said," he answered stiffly. "I can't stand that we let ourselves get cut off from Mike. They would never have done to us, what we had to do to one of them. All we had to do was stay together."

"You can keep going back over it, and it's not ever going to make it any easier. Are you forgetting that you got shot Greg?"

"I was grazed. There's a huge difference."

"Actually, it's a very small difference," she had to point out. "Only inches when you think about it. You risked your lives to keep looking for them."

"It doesn't change anything," he said shortly, and then glanced over apologetically. "Sorry. I'm tired, I feel guilty...and I just want to get myself to Mbandaka and go to work."

Greg checked his pocket for his wallet, and rifled through a couple of bills. "I've got to get some caffeine in me April. Do you mind sitting here with Brandon? I could bring something back for the both of us."

"Make it three," Brandon murmured from behind closed eye-lids.

April immediately scooted her chair closer to his side, and rested a light hand on his arm. "Hey Brandon. Nice to hear from you again."

The prone man blinked slowly, and then granted the closest thing to a smile that he could manage. "What are you doing with me? What about your husband?" He didn't have much volume, but it was his first venture back into complete sentences, so April wasn't going to complain.

"He's getting some much needed rest, so I thought I'd check in on you," she answered, and then motioned to a curtain to her right. "He's not far away in any case."

Brandon glanced that direction with his eyes, but didn't so much as attempt to move anything. "When do _you _plan on resting?"

"I have my entire life to get back to that. Do you want some water?"

As he accepted a couple of sips through the straw she offered, Greg came up behind April, and raised a mute hand in greeting toward Brandon.

"Don't spend all your time feeling bad Heff. You've got a job to do," Brandon told him, sounding as if he'd heard more of the conversation than he'd let on initially.

Greg nodded. "I was in contact with the military transport coming from Kinshasa about two hours ago. They're supposed to be here before sundown, and they're going to get you guys out of the country."

A soft breath escaped Brandon. "I wish I didn't have to go."

"Bran, if we don't send you home, I'm pretty sure that Kat will be on the next flight out here." Greg actually chuckled. "She'll drag you home by your earlobes if she has to, so don't waste any energy fighting it. You know it's the best thing for you."

"Wanting to do something and being _able_ to do it are two very different things, I know," Brandon said more raggedly. "I'm just saying I'd rather be here, helping find them. Stop killing yourself over what happened, and get ready for the next step."

"I don't particularly care for your choice of words Brandon," April remarked.

The man raised a hand a couple of inches helplessly to her, and then shifted his gaze back to Greg, as if intentionally avoiding addressing the comment. "Weren't you 'spose to be getting us something to drink?"

"You're not getting caffeine, even I know better than that." Greg smiled, and gave the mattress a parting tap as he straightened up from leaning over. "How about it though April?"

"If you're going anyway, I'd take some," she replied, and turned her attention back to Brandon. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?"

His closed his eyes briefly. "I'll feel comfortable when everybody's home safe. I wish that you guys hadn't told my sisters that I almost...y'know. They're not ever going to let me out of their sight again." His voice was already more faint, and she could tell he was having to exert effort to maintain any volume.

"They're your sisters Brandon, we _had_ to tell them. They would have found out eventually. Why don't you relax now? No more talking."

His usually warm brown eyes still bore witness to the ordeal his body had recently been through, but they still seemed to resist the urge to stay closed.

"I understand this is a tough position, it's hard on all of us. You're not going to help anything by staying awake. The guys are going to find Mikey, you know they won't rest until they do." April tried to soothe him.

"I just wanna be here when..." he mumbled, not capable of finishing the thought.

"You'll see him again soon, and everyone else. Now hush, and go back to sleep."

* * *

Leonardo was struggling to deal with the incessant roar that was still manifesting in his left ear. He'd been so tired before that sleep came regardless, but with the passing of another day and the return of a little more energy, it was now hindering his rest. The blue-masked turtle tossed and turned for awhile, until finally sitting up with a frustrated grunt.

His gaze hit on Donatello to his left, and he was relieved to see that his brother appeared to be sleeping comfortably enough. Donatello was still lying on his plastron to prevent putting more pressure on the shrapnel wounds in his leg, but didn't look like he was suffering. Leonardo had regretted stealing a glance at the injuries when Luke had been irrigating the site that day.

_I wish it had been me, _he thought ruefully. _Donny's had to deal with _enough_ trauma regarding this junk._

The red-masked turtle seemed to be asleep too, stretched out just beyond him and Donny, positioned nearly at their feet. Leonardo felt a sense of pride rising in him over Raphael's handling of the situation.

_I guess he really came through for Doc...and as frustrating as all this has been, he hasn't been at risk for storming off once. _Leonardo couldn't help but wonder how his passionate brother's anxiety was actually being vented. The thought had hardly crossed his mind, when Raphael suddenly raised his head a few inches off the ground.

"Hey," his brother greeted him crossly. "What are you doing up Fearless?"

"I don't know if this can actually be considered _up." _

"You know what I mean Leo. How come you ain't sleeping? Don't try and tell me you're not tired."

"No, it's not that Raph. It's just this ear, it's um...I wish I could shut it off somehow."

A pained expression passed Raphael's face, and he glanced beyond Leonardo to where Luke was lying.

The blue-masked turtle quickly shook his head. "There's nothing he can do here but drug me Raph, and it's not worth wasting for that. We should be conserving every drop that we have. I need to find ways to acclimate myself to this anyway, learn to adapt. I can't do that if I'm leaning on drugs."

"Don't talk like this is permanent Leo," Raphael objected. "You heard Doc, he said it should be temporary."

"_Should_ doesn't mean it will be," Leonardo said simply. He cringed at the anxiety in his brother's eyes, and tried to offer him a real smile. "But Luke pretty much knows what he's talking about, right? That's why we've kept him around for so long."

Raphael snorted quietly. "That sure ain't the only reason he sticks around. He requires Mikey's cooking just to survive."

Speaking their missing brother's name out loud forced an almost visible shadow to cloud Raphael's features, and the red-masked turtle drew himself upright against the side of the cavern.

"I tell you Leo, I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm holding in as much as I can, but if I don't get to do something soon, I'm probably gonna have to bust a hole through this wall."

"You've been remarkably restrained," Leonardo acknowledged. "I appreciate it Raph, everything you've done to support us, and help hold things together. A real run would probably do you a world of good, but I don't like the thought of anyone splitting off alone right now, anymore than Doc or Kirkland does."

"Well, I 'spose I just have to wait until you can get off your own shell." Raphael smirked in a familiar manner.

"I'll take you up on that, the minute Doc signs me off. In the meantime...how are you holding up with the other thing?"

"They said Brandon's talking more," Raphael replied. "I'm glad they're getting out of this place, but part of me wishes I coulda seen him, just for reassurance. When they took him down to Beni, we still didn't know if he'd make it Leo. That was one of the worst feelings I've ever had."

Leonardo rested his elbows harder on the floor, his own brow furrowing as he remembered. "I know what you're talking about Raph. That night when you were nearly killed by the Akiudo, and I was stuck driving the stupid van home...Somehow, it felt harder because I _couldn't_ see you. There wasn't anything I could have done to help at that point, but it didn't change my wanting to be with you. That is one night of several that I wish I could completely erase from my memory."

The statement had barely left his mouth before Leonardo realized what he'd said, and had the temptation to smack his own forehead.

The red-masked turtle only rolled his eyes at him. "You've got a way with words, you know that Leo? Amnesia's nothing to wish for, believe me. But part of me would rather deal with that all over, than face what we went through with Brandon ever again."


	45. Angry

Michelangelo was irritated to wake up to the sound of heavy rain, sheeting down on their tent as it had been doing all night. They'd had to scramble to reinforce the stakes to keep the material pegged down properly, and eventually had to bring some rocks around the edges to increase the stability.

_Well, it could be worse, right?_ he reasoned with himself. _At least you've got a "roof" over your head. No matter how aggravating this is, we've still got things to be grateful for._

They'd hiked roughly an hour away from their original site closer to the river, before finding a clear running stream that would serve their water needs well. Everything would still need to be filtered for their safety, but Rebecca had seemed very pleased with the location.

Michelangelo enjoyed watching her relax more around him, and loved her chuckle that had been progressively growing louder since they set out together. Her normal expression usually seemed so subdued and serious, as if there was always more churning underneath than she openly admitted.

_Shell, she kinda reminds me of Donny in some ways. She's smart enough, the two of them would probably get along really well, _he mused_. Not _too _well though, Jen would never put up with that. _The thought of the two human girls battling it out for Donatello's affections was so amusing to him, that he almost laughed out loud.

Mike sat up somewhat guiltily from the daydream, as Rebecca hurried to get back under the canopy of their tent. The turtle tossed a blanket toward the young woman, and gave her a wry smile. "Is there an 'off' button for this stuff?"

"They don't call it the _rainforest_ for nothing Mikey."

He gave Rebecca a double-take at her use of the familiar nickname, and she quickly spoke up again.

"Sorry, I heard Marcus refer to you that way so many times, it kind of just slipped."

"It can slip again if you want." He grinned. "Mike, Mikey, it's all the same to me. Does everybody call _you_ Rebecca?"

"Most people do now, but I grew up as Becky."

"Works for me." Michelangelo only then noticed the bundle she'd brought in out of the rain. "Is that the bamboo? Do I get to see how this works now?"

She nodded. "Soaking it overnight makes this an easier process."

Rebecca set down the material she'd rolled the plant up in, and then showed Michelangelo one of the individual husks. "All you have to do is peel them, and it should come off simply enough, without even using a knife. Then you can get to the good meat inside."

"'Meat' is a relative word, isn't it? You're daring me to dream here," he cracked.

"Just try it, okay?" She sliced tip off the husk in her hand, and offered it to him first.

Michelangelo took it readily, and pondered over the crunchy texture for a few seconds before commenting. "It's definitely not horrible. Texture kinda reminds me of asparagus, but the flavor...needs something. I could jazz this up proper if we were at home."

"Do you serve a lot of asparagus to your brothers?" She laughed.

"Karina has refined and broadened our tastes a little bit," Michelangelo replied. "She's a great cook; has a way of opening us up to ingredients we'd never bothered touching before."

"Karina...she's...with one of your brother's, isn't she?" Rebecca asked uncertainly.

"Shell, Marc didn't leave anything out, did he?"

"It was my fault, I kept bugging him to tell me more. There weren't very many things to occupy our time, so he told me as much as I wanted to hear."

"You remember correctly. Karina's with Raph, my second oldest brother."

"And all the girls live with you?"

"Karina and Jenna do." The orange-masked turtle nodded. "Calley's still on the surface. Can't say how much longer that will last, now that she and Leo are coming along further," he finished more quietly to himself, and then offered Rebecca another smile. "The girls are great. What you were saying about Nanji, it's that way with them. They're like the adorable sisters I never had."

Rebecca smiled in return, but there was a flash of another emotion behind it. It disappeared before he had a chance to analyze it, but her sagging shoulders weren't so quick to recover. The young woman opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then hesitated twice before plunging ahead. "I don't suppose...Do you happen to know if anyone contacted my family about this?"

Michelangelo's body tensed severely with the question. He remembered the conversation with April, explaining to all of them exactly how well _that _phone call had gone. He hadn't counted on being the one that was going to have to share it.

"I um...well, that is..." His incredible level of discomfort must have spoken volumes to Rebecca.

"They did, didn't they?" she persisted. "You can be honest with me Mike, I can handle it. Did someone reach my grandparents?"

"April called 'em," he barely squeaked.

"And they didn't care one way or another, was that how it went?"

Michelangelo didn't say anything, but by now, he didn't have to.

Rebecca settled down on her back on top of the blanket, and stared at the ceiling of the tent imploringly. "I expected no differently."

Michelangelo studied her for a long moment, trying to determine whether now was the time to push her to talk about anything. She really did remind him a lot of Donny, and sometimes the best thing to do for his brother was to let him be until he sensed that he was more ready. There were also other times when he instinctively knew that he couldn't take "no" for an answer.

As he pondered her silent posture, he got the distinct feeling that she'd been quiet for long enough. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Michelangelo finally ventured.

Her blue-green eyes met his, and she shrugged as if she knew what was coming.

"What about the rest of your family Becky? Your parents, your sister...where are they?"

"They're gone," she answered. "They've been dead a little over three years."

"Is that why you came back to the States? Did it happen here?"

"Yes, and I was injured at the time too. Going back to the US was completely out of my control." Rebecca paused for a couple of seconds, and went on before he could force himself to ask how it happened. "The four of us were traveling through the rainforest between villages. In the later years, we divided our time in different places, so it meant more drives like that one. Our Jeep was ambushed, and I thought it was going to be flat-out robbery. I actually believed we would all get out of it unscathed.

When my Dad saw that they meant to kill us no matter what we gave them, he tried to get us away from there. When he blasted through that first clearing, I thought we could make it home free. It seemed like he would be able to put enough distance between us and them, but we were rapidly pursued. There were more of them in wait, that we didn't realize were there to start with."

"Who Rebecca? Who attacked you?"

"It could have been anybody Mike, we didn't recognize them, or know what their motivation was. It might have been a jealous rival tribe, it could have been rebels...It might have even been soldiers. They're known to use plain clothes for some of their missions. In any case, they chased us down, and they opened fire on us. I..." Rebecca faltered for an instant, her gaze suddenly focused straight ahead, as if the scene was unfolding again before waking eyes. "I saw bullets impact my Father...and it's the last thing I can remember. When I woke up, I was in a field hospital, surrounding by strange faces. They told me I'd been in a crash, and then they said that the rest of my family hadn't made it."

Rebecca looked down, not bothering to brush away the tears that fell. "I was transported home to the States to recover, back to Kansas. The Achilles tendon in my right leg had been traumatically ruptured, and there was serious question as to whether or not I would ever have full strength back. I didn't want to accept that, so I went through the surgeries, listened to everything the doctors said, and hit the physical therapy as hard as I could. There was never any real question in _my_ mind if I'd have normal function again."

Michelangelo shook his head in amazement. "Which explains your rock-hard muscles," he commented in return, and was instantly mortified by his own presumption. "I mean, you look like you've worked your legs a whole lot."

"Therapy was a full-time job for awhile, and I've never let up on working them. I do a lot of biking to keep flexibility. It's also one of cheapest ways to get around New York," she said ironically.

"But what's missing here?" Michelangelo directed the conversation back on target. "What happened with the rest of your family in Kansas?"

"My surviving Grandparents on my Mom's side had never been happy with the path my parents chose; it was made exceedingly clear to them through the years. And when I came back to the states _alone_..." Rebecca had to stop for an instant longer to collect herself. "They whispered, and they tried to keep it hidden at first. But eventually all the disdain and bitterness came out in full view, and they were completely open about how my parents had wasted our lives. It kept coming up over and over again...until I couldn't even stand to be under the same roof as them.

Then I would go to church, and I'd get looks from all directions, like everyone just felt so sorry for the poor little orphan." Rebecca focused on Michelangelo's expression, and her eyes suddenly narrowed. "Exactly like that!" she snapped suddenly. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me! This is _why_ I don't tell people."

There were tears in his eyes before he could shut them down, and Rebecca apparently interpreted them the wrong way.

"I'm sorry Mike. That wasn't about you, and it shouldn't have been directed at you."

"Do you need to get mad at somebody Becky? Then get mad. I've got a tough shell, I can take it."

"No, I'm all right. I'm really sorry about that."

"For about five seconds there, I thought I saw your real emotions coming out. I bet you never confronted your family for the things they said about your parents, did you?"

"It doesn't matter-"  
"Yeah, it _does_ matter Becky, it really does. They drove you away; they cut you off like you were dead. You're not okay with that, you can't be. But you wouldn't dare say that to their face, would you?" Now he was _trying_ to make her mad.

"You have no idea what I went through with them, or what it was like trying to fit back into a normal society somehow. You've got no right to comment on any of it!"

"I don't, but I still am. I'm daring to invade on your most personal of space. Why would you let them trample you down, talk about your family like garbage, and not even bother protesting any of it?"

The young woman shot upright to her knees, so that she was only inches away from the turtle now. "There was nothing I could have said, no way to convince them otherwise. I survived the only way I knew how, and you have no right to judge me for it!"

"You survived by burying it, by trying to hide all those feelings that you didn't like," Michelangelo replied, refusing to flinch despite how close she'd gotten to him. He wasn't ready to let go of his effort to get a reaction out of her. "I've seen it before Becky, you're not fooling me. You don't talk about it, because you don't want to deal with it."

The eyes that had been piercing him through closed instantly, as she collapsed with a sob in front of him. "I'm just...a coward," Rebecca gasped with difficulty.

"No you're not, I would never call you that," he corrected. "I was trying to get something real out of you. I'm sorry I pushed."

The young woman looked up at him, tear stained eyes now more beautiful than even the first time he'd seen them. The look was pleading, desperate. With a beat of hesitation, the orange-masked turtle encircled her with both arms.

"I'm sorry Becky. I'm sorry for all of it."


	46. Hoping

It was mid-morning back at the cavern near Beni, and by now Kirkland and Timothy had taken up a more "permanent" residence with the turtles and Luke. They brought the news with them that Greg should be landing in Mbandaka before noon, at which point his mission would truly begin. The atmosphere was still a little somber, though a note of hope was rising louder in the background.

At the same time, Donatello was aching to get on his feet. He longed to be looking for his younger brother, and for the eventual trip home in the Gulfstream. The passing of the last couple of days felt more like lifetimes than mere hours. The surety of Michelangelo still being alive in the back of his mind comforted him. but he still would rather have seen him with his own eyes.

Donatello sipped the tea that Luke had recently replenished for him, and continued sitting in silence the same way he had been for the last hour. He needed news, and he needed something to do.

_The lack of action is enough to drive any of of us crazy. We always able to function better when we're all together, as a team._

Each one performed a kind of vital function, whose presence was dearly missed when it was gone for any length of time.

The purple-masked turtle took another contemplative sip, and swirled the warm liquid in the flask until it created a small whirl-pool effect. When he glanced up from the pointless motion, he found Luke gazing at him, and offered a smile."Some vacation this turned out to be."

Luke laughed humorlessly. "If this was a vacation, I'd hate to see what real work would be like."

It was the first time _either_ of them had spoken in several minutes, and it seemed to encourage Luke to approach him. The doctor dropped on the ground closer by the turtle, still gripping the thin stick he'd been disturbing fire embers with. Donatello's keen gaze picked up on the subtle change in Luke's train of thought.

"You miss your girls, don't you Doc?"

He nodded a bit gravely. "It's hard to be away, especially with Reina. I want to see her so badly it hurts."

"Aw," Donny said with a half grin. "You should tell Kat, she'd probably love to hear that."

"I think it would only make the separation harder," Luke answered wryly. "I believe it's better to suffer in silence."

The blue-masked turtle ambled over toward the two of them, unconsciously massaging his difficult ear. "Hey you guys," he said amiably, before focusing purely on Luke. "So Doc...we never actually discussed the fact that you disobeyed my direct order."

Luke shifted a little awkwardly under Leonardo's dark eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether to take the turtle seriously or not. "I did disobey," he said after a moment. "When I heard the radio traffic, found out that the four of you were trying to reconnect out there, I thought it would be a good time to get your shells to safety. Then when Greg and Tim got to us with the scanner, it became possible for us to track where you were. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that we were coming, that was my call. I figured if I didn't ask permission, you wouldn't be able to turn me away."

Leonardo's gaze deepened for an instant, but he couldn't maintain the reproachful look. "I'm not about to encourage you to do whatever you feel like in a situation like that Doc. Instructions are laid down for a reason, and you have to be able to follow them in order to be entrusted with responsibility on one of these missions. However, you saved Brandon's life, and probably saved our shells by showing up when you did too. Don't make a habit of it," he ended sardonically.

Luke chuckled nervously, as if he was glad that was over with.

"And_ you_," Leonardo said pointedly to Donatello. "I don't even know where to start."

"You may as well turn that finger around," the purple-masked turtle said innocently. "You're the one who had to jump in front of that blast Fearless."

His older brother shook his head. "Right, that _is_ hard to argue with. I'm sorry I became your burden Donny, we sure didn't need that in the middle of everything."

"No, we didn't...but you only went down trying to protect me."

"And I didn't do a very good job of that," Leonardo said morosely.

"Leo, it's no big deal," Donatello said swiftly. "The shrapnel didn't cut tendons or muscle, nothing vital got damaged. I'll heal up just fine, won't I Doc?"

Luke nodded firmly. "It will, and we're taking extra precautions because of the environment. Stop worrying about it Leo, your brother's going to be absolutely fine. What about you? I see you're still fussing with that ear, is there any difference?"

Leonardo pulled his hand away, as if he hadn't even realized he was touching it. "Not that I've noticed Doc, I'm just trying to adjust. I'm feeling good right now otherwise, if a bit stiff. Raph and I were thinking we might take a little trek or something," he finished hopefully.

"If by _something_ you're talking about running, the answer is no," Luke replied. "But I don't see why a walk wouldn't suit you."

A grin returned to the blue-masked turtle's face. "I suppose I should take what I can get."

"Grab some fresh air for me, will you?" Donatello quipped, and then waved off his older brother's guilty glance.

"You can get some of your own Donny. We should all get out of this cave for a little while, and you could make a phone call to the states," Luke suggested.

They still hadn't been able to achieve any reception inside the cavernous walls, and had been forced to make all of their calls from the ridge outside. Donatello truly beamed for the first time that day at Luke's offer, and it was enough to get the doctor on his feet.

"C'mon Donny. I should have thought of this sooner."

Raphael gave Luke a hand helping the purple-masked turtle outside into the sunlight, and Donatello could swear he caught some guilt in Raph's glance as well.

"Would you guys just go already?" Donatello encouraged them. "I've got plenty of company here."

Without further prodding, his older brothers trotted off down the ridge, and he watched them quietly until they were out of sight.

"Shell, I thought they'd never leave," Donny cracked, and got a startled laugh out of Tim who was perched on his right.

"It's too bad you're cursed with brothers who care so much Don."

"Isn't it though? Where's the phone Doc?"

Luke handed one over as he sat down on his other side. "This one has the most juice Donny."

* * *

Jenna sat up with a jerk on the air mattress, her hand automatically searching for the ringing cell-phone. It took her a few annoying seconds to discover where it had fallen in the darkness, so that she was breathless by the time she answered it.

"Hello?" Jenna's heart leaped as the word left her, hoping it would be-

"Hey Jen, it's me."

"_Finally_, I've been waiting and waiting to hear your voice again. What on earth are you doing with yourself over there Donny?"

"Doc's been holding me captive."

She could hear the grin in his voice. "I can handle him for you, just give him the phone," Jenna instructed.

"As much as I'd like to hear that, I think I'd rather listen to you myself."

"Are you feeling all right, are you in much pain?"

"It's okay, we're doing all the right things for it Jen. How are you doing? How are the girls?"

"Crazy Donny, what do you think? They were about in conniptions over Brandon, and none of us feel much better for not knowing where Mikey is."

"Be strong for them, Brandon and Marc are going to need your support when they get home. Not that I really need to tell you that I suppose."

"But I love that you do anyway," she said affectionately. "And I love_ you_. Don't be a stranger okay? I can't go days without hearing from you, not unless you want me showing up in the DRC too."

"Huh uh, I'll tell your Mom to get the Consulate to block you."

"Think you can sway her that much Donny?"

"I _know_ I can," he replied cheekily. "But I'll save you plane fare in any case, and make sure I get to call more often."

"That's all a girl could ask for."

Jenna hung up with him a couple of minutes later. It was still really early, but there wasn't much hope for falling back asleep. She ran her fingers through raven hair, as she padded across the living area in Luke and Katherine's loft. Jenna paused in the center of the room for a few seconds, stretching out both arms languidly before turning toward the balcony.

It was still dark overhead, but the city that never slept carried on beneath her. Jenna leaned against the railing with a soft sigh, and watched the cars that were rolling on the street below. The next few hours couldn't pass fast enough for them, while they waited for April, Marc, and Brandon to get back into the United States. They would also be waiting for word from Greg on his own progress in Mbandaka.

The city that surrounded Jenna suddenly felt far removed from where she was standing, as she ached the most for news about the orange-masked turtle.

_Knowing Mikey, he's finding some way to have fun with this. At least, I hope he is._


	47. Attraction

It was mid-afternoon before the heavens stopped pouring rain on the tent, and both of its' occupants were glad to vacate the small space. Rebecca breathed in deeply, relishing the clean scent that was left behind by the extended showers. She turned to glance at the orange-masked turtle, who was testing the depth in the pan they'd left out to collect run-off. Rebecca actually preferred the rainwater to taking it from the stream – there were fewer impurities that needed to be filtered out.

Rebecca had been stunned by Michelangelo's earlier observations when she'd opened up to him about her family, but unable to argue against a single one. After her embarrassing break down (during which the turtle had been unusually understanding), Michelangelo had rapidly changed the subject. It had still taken her a few minutes to recover from the awkward display, but he'd immediately fallen back into his own characteristic optimism.

Rebecca was extremely grateful for the attitude he'd maintained thus far, hardly raising a complaint over a single thing that they'd encountered. She knew that he was hungry for more than the natural offerings they'd been finding, but he had yet to really grumble in more than a teasing form.

_He's got to be one of the most extraordinary guys I've ever met, and that's not counting the physiology. I'd give anything to bottle some of what he has. Maybe I could pass myself off as a regular person sometime, instead of an obsessive hermit._

"Do you think we might be able to have a fire tonight?" Michelangelo's voice cut through her thoughts.

Rebecca glanced up at the cracks of sky that were visible through the breaks in the trees. "Hopefully Mike, the major portion of the rain seems to have moved on. You're glad we took up some space for the wood to keep it dry, aren't you?" she added teasingly.

"I never doubted you for one second!" he exclaimed in return.

"I wouldn't mind starting one right now actually, and I could get some of those tubers boiling," Rebecca suggested.

"Those are what exactly? You started to tell me before…"

"Wild yams - they have a lot in common with sweet potatoes. From their proximity to the stream, it's likely that they were intentionally cultivated by natives at some point, but they don't require a famer's hand to grow here."

"So Thanksgiving is gonna come early? Sweet."

Rebecca chuckled, but then gave the turtle a more serious look. "I want you to know how much I appreciate the attitude you've kept over the last four days. I don't think you've had a single 'down' moment, and it…You've been encouraging me a great deal. After what Marc and I went through already, and now being kind of stranded, I didn't expect to feel as good as I do right now."

Michelangelo ducked his head, as if trying to conceal the abashed emotion that his body didn't hide very well. He mumbled something that she couldn't understand, but then his blue gaze flicked back up to her.

_Those eyes are so expressive. I swear, every look that I get from him feels like it could be telling me a story. I'm not sure he could lie to me, even if he wanted to. Marc never mentioned anything about these shy tendencies with him, but they're actually kind of endearing._

Michelangelo cleared his throat, and offered her one of those infectious smiles. "It's just, I know my brothers have to be getting close, and we're gonna be all right. We've been fine so far, haven't we? No reason to go off panicking or anything. I'm glad that I um…that I could help you in anyway."

"You have – you've been a great partner Mikey."

_Is he actually changing colors? I didn't know they could do that._

Michelangelo shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly. "So…so if you're going to cook the…"

"Tubers," she filled in.

"Right, if you're gonna get started on those, I thought I might take a few minutes to get some exercise. I didn't get to do it this morning, and it's not good to skip, I'll be in enough trouble with the guys when they find us anyway. That's unless you get lonely or something, I mean, I don't _have_ to do it right now, but—"

"Mike. Breathe." She laughed.

He chuckled in return, and shook his head. "Sorry. Leo always said I'm most dangerous when I have pent-up energy with nowhere to go."

"Go get rid of some it then, just don't do anymore flying out of trees. You're not working with a safety net." She giggled, and smoothed a curly strand behind one ear.

_Geesh, why am I saying stuff like that to him? Teasing has never been my forte. But whenever he gets going, all that exuberance takes over, and I feel like I start to lose control of my _own _mouth. What a weird feeling, it's almost like we're flirting with…_

Rebecca didn't finish the inane thought, and immediately stopped straightening her hair. "So why don't you go ahead and work, and I'll get some water heated up."

The turtle nodded, and removed himself to a short distance away from her to start on a few of the forms she'd seen him run through a couple of times by now.

Rebecca took her time building a small fire, and absent-mindedly stroked the metal lighter that Michelangelo had found on the barge. When she was unconsciously drawn to glance over her shoulder at the turtle for the fifth time in ten minutes, Rebecca stopped herself with a massive jerk.

_Oh my word, what am I doing? I _am_ flirting with him! What's wrong with me? He's probably not remotely interested, why would he be? He's been so nice, but this is just what they do. They rescue people all the time, they must think of it like a job. Of course I have to go and personalize everything, as if he came all this way just to save _me_. I was just the baggage that came along with Marcus, nothing more._

Rebecca took a soft breath, as she adjusted some kindling to catch the flame better, and then resumed where she had left off.

_I don't even know what I'm doing here, I don't understand any of it. I could try pleading temporary insanity I suppose._

The young woman rolled her eyes as she took a knife to the tubers she'd found the day before, and started preparing them for the boiling process. Rebecca willfully silenced the inner contemplation that was only serving to confuse her further, and tried to turn her attention fully on the pot instead, as she waited for water to boil.

Rebecca found herself inspecting one of the roots carefully, turning it over in her hands several times, as she searched for the traces of dirt that had _already_ been removed. She forced herself to drop the yam directly into the pot.

_Great, that's just what I need to do – add in a compulsive disorder on top of everything else that's making me feel crazy._

Rebecca found herself zoning out a little as they cooked, barely watching the water although she was looking right at it.

_It's not like this is some new difficulty for me or something. Hannah was the one that people couldn't get enough of. She was so beautiful, so sure of herself. She never had eyes for more than one guy at a time, but that never stopped the others from trying to beat down her door. I'm the awkward one, who _still _doesn't know how to act. A grown woman, and I haven't learned the first thing about attraction. I can't even remember the last time that I had feelings for someone else period. Now I'm sitting here, reading into the intentions of a creature too fantastic to even conceptualize. How embarrassing am I?_

As Rebecca turned away from the cooking process that had nearly finished without her, she was startled to find the orange-masked turtle directly behind her. A soft cry left her lips as she physically jumped before she could stop herself, and a green hand instantly reached out to steady her.

Michelangelo didn't grasp her exactly, his fingers hovered just under her elbow, only brushing her skin for the breadth of a second. The contact was enough to break her arm out in goose-bumps, and she immediately tried to laugh to cover them up.

"You're really too quiet, I never heard you coming at all. I feel like I need to put a bell on you or something." _Would you shut your mouth already idiot?_

"Now you think I'm part cat? It wouldn't make a difference y'know, our Sensei made us train with those too." Michelangelo grinned. "It's not a healthy habit to break, but I'll start trying to speak up more, okay?"

She nodded without ever escaping his blue eyes, even as she shook her right arm lightly, in an attempt to banish all evidence of the goose-bumps.

* * *

Subtly had never been one of Michelangelo's strengths. He wasn't very successful at hiding his true feelings normally, let alone the type of sensations he'd been dealing with the last few days. It wasn't that he'd never found a woman to be particularly attractive before. He'd seen a lot TV, patrolled plenty of streets, and lived with two females long enough to experience some level of appreciation for a beautiful woman.

The situation unfolding in front of him felt completely different, and it seemed to be having the effect of reducing him to a bumbling moron.

_Not that I was a genius to start with, but this has gotta be an all-time low for me._

Rebecca probably wasn't the ideal Holly-wood type – she wouldn't have been cast for the leading role in any upcoming movies. There was nothing flashy or obvious about her, but the orange-masked turtle still couldn't help noticing all the subtle little things, like the way her smile lit up when she laughed, and the small creases that would form around her eyes.

Michelangelo couldn't put a finger on why her very presence had such a powerful impact on him, but it was getting more embarrassing to feel like he was failing to conceal it.

_I have to get a handle on this. We're in a survival situation, this isn't like some dumb game show or a movie; things don't work like this in real life._

Michelangelo broke out of thought when he realized that Rebecca was looking at him, and quickly met her steady gaze.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You seem quiet."

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. I'm just thinking about some stuff. Takes longer for my brain to get moving than most," he finished jokingly.

"I hardly believe that. You react faster to things than anyone I've ever known."

"That's instinct, not thinking," Mike pointed out, and tried to be casual as he tossed another small piece of kindling onto their fire.

Darkness had fallen again, and they'd been enjoying their first dry night since their little "side-trip" had started.

"It must have been pretty interesting, growing up with three older brothers." Rebecca seemed to be trying to start-up a real conversation with him, a cue that he'd been silent too long.

Michelangelo nodded. "We sure kept each other from getting bored most of the time."

"What do you guys do for fun, when you're not working out or saving some random stranger?"

"You know, normal stuff," Michelangelo replied. "We hang out a lot, watch TV…been known to play games from time to time."

There was something very odd about the way she smiled at that statement.

"Marc tells me that you're a bit of a prankster."

"Um, yeah, I've been known to pull a few tricks, but I'm not…" _Shell, she's gonna think I'm some stupid kid or something, but it's not like I can deny it if Marc already told her. _"I go a little overboard sometimes," he admitted aloud. "But don't ever let anyone tell you that I started it all, 'cause I didn't. My brothers lit that first match when we were kids, and I've just had too much fun keeping it going."

Rebecca seemed more amused than judgmental. "I understand you go at it with one brother in particular most of the time."

"Raph," Michelangelo said instantly. "See, you have to understand the real purpose behind it. The reaction is a big part of the experience, and he's the easiest one for me to get a rise out of. Leo always reacts, but he's all methodical and controlled about it. Donny's not much fun at all, because he doesn't like to retaliate. He's too nice to get involved most of the time, with the exception of the birthday tradition. We can't ever skip that, it's like sacred now. But in random cases, Raph is the one who never disappoints me. Even our other friends get in on it sometimes, and that _includes_ Dr. Marcus Sloan."

"He readily admitted that," Rebecca replied. "But he says you're the _true_ Master."

"You know how the Army has like war games and stuff? In a way, pranks are my own fun twist on that. It's a great exercise in practicing the element of surprise, if nothing else. Believe it or not, it's still not that easy for one ninja to startle another. I have to keep them on their toes somehow, and if it happens to make me laugh at the same time…all the better."

"It sounds like a riot. I'd like to see one of your war games sometime."

Michelangelo rubbed a hand across his forehead with a sheepish smile. "Hang around us long enough, and you'll probably get the chance."

"I'm excited to meet your other brothers Mikey. I've heard so much about all of you already, it's sort of like meeting characters out of a story."

"I want you to meet 'em too Becky, I really hope they find us soon." _And I really hope that they're all okay. Maybe it's natural for it to be taking this long in these conditions, but…I hope they're okay._


	48. Forgiving

It had been over 30 hours since Marc, April, and Brandon had left the Congo in a military escort. They were now planted firmly back on US soil. The trip itself seemed to take the hardest toll on Marcus, and his need for the consistent flow of regulated oxygen became more apparent.

Their landing had been like a whirl-wind of activity on the state-side of things, and they'd been transported to St. Joseph's, per Marc's pleaded request. He knew that he would have at least a couple of days' stay ahead of him, and he felt more comfortable putting himself (and Brandon) inside an environment of colleagues that he trusted so much.

Marc was personally more concerned with how Brandon was fairing, but his friend had been mostly out of it for the majority of their flight time. Marcus was relieved to be home, but he was also weighed down with anxiety and guilt for the fact that Michelangelo was still missing and Brandon had nearly been killed, all in the name of saving his tail.

Marcus and Brandon had been immediately split up upon arrival at the hospital, and April had gone another direction to meet up with the other girls who were on their way there too. Marcus was alone for about fifteen minutes after the first breathing treatment had started being administered, and nearly felt himself dozing off in that time.

A light knock at the door caught him mid-nod, and his head jerked upright. "C'mon in," he called toward it.

Marc was relieved to see his wife again, and that she was accompanied by someone else this time.

Jenna motioned for April to take the chair closest to his bed, and sat down on Marc's other side. "Boy, you know how to scare some people," she said impishly, as she reached to squeeze his arm. "It's good to see you Marc, I'm glad you're home."

"I'm glad I'm here too, I just wish everybody was," Marcus said morosely, not quite meeting her gaze. "It was such a disaster. I can't believe they had to haul themselves all the way to the freakin' Congo. Of all the decisions I've ever made, this has to rank as about the worst."

"You act like you asked for this," Jenna said softly.

"Whether I brought it on myself or not, they wouldn't have had to go at all if I would have controlled my compulsion to run off and try to be a hero," Marcus said a little more weakly. "I should still be there now, not already sitting at home while Mike and Rebecca…"

He didn't bother finishing, and it was April who reached out to him this time.

"Marc, what you did was out of pure intentions. You weren't trying to test the fates, or get some kind of thrill. You went to save people, and you helped quite a number in the days you had."

"At what expense though?" he mumbled. "If Brandon was dead right now, I don't even know how I'd live with myself. Can we just talk about something else? I promise I'm not going to feel better about this."

The women lapsed into silence, and no one said a word for a little over a minute.

"Have you talked to either of my parents?" Marcus finally asked April.

"Not yet, but I can do that right away if you want me too," April offered. "I wasn't sure how much time I should wait before springing them on you. I mean, I know your father doesn't live far away…"

"My thoughts exactly, and I don't want to deal with him yet. They know I'm alive, they don't necessarily need to know I'm in the country yet," Marcus replied, his own voice sounding harsh to his ears. "Geesh, that sounds cold, but it's more because of my Dad than anyone else. He's going to be absolutely insufferable."

"Just let me know.," April answered.

They'd been quiet for a little longer, when a strange smile crossed Jenna's countenance.

"So this girl that Mikey's off somewhere in the rainforest with…She's not like _available_ is she?"

April's soft gasp told Marc that she'd had no idea Jenna was going to ask that.

"What?" Jenna said innocently. "It's just a question."

Marcus laughed awkwardly. "Oh man. She's technically single, but um…if I was a betting man, I wouldn't put any money on it Jen. She's not…"

"What Marc? Not his type, not good enough for him? What's she honestly like?"

"I wouldn't say that she isn't good enough for him. Rebecca's a great person Jen, and I think she'd make a good addition to our strange family. I just have a hard time believing that anything could happen with them, based solely on what limited experience I have with her. Rebecca is probably one of the most selfless, compassionate people I've ever met, but I couldn't say that she'd be ready for something like this, even if there were a mutual affinity. "

Marcus paused to search for the right words. "Rebecca was a rock through that whole ordeal, she's incredibly strong in many ways. But she's also very closed off, emotionally speaking that is. I got the sense that she typically holds people at arms' length, you know…'thus far and no more'. On top of which, I'm _not_ sure if she'd be his type or not. Rebecca is incredibly focused, very concerned about the issues that matter to her. They're sort of the only things that exist in her world. She's definitely single-minded to the 10th degree, and comes across as pretty serious most of the time.

Please don't misunderstand me, I'm not putting her down, I wouldn't dream of it. I'm just saying, realistically speaking, that it doesn't feel very likely. Rebecca's got a great mind, and could probably do about anything she wanted to with it. She chooses to take up the cause of other people, because that's where her heart is. I think she'd give up her life a thousand times over to help those people in the Congo.

But when it comes to purely focusing on herself, she's uncomfortable and guarded, like she's awkward in her own skin."

Jenna smiled at Marcus. "Do you realize you've kind of just described my husband Marc? Donny may have come a long way, but when he was younger he could be incredibly closed off and awkward. He and Mikey get along pretty well, in case you don't remember. Of course, you know the situation a lot better than I do, but I wouldn't be absolutely shocked if something came out of their time together. The guys are pretty irresistible Marc – they can draw you in like a moth to a flame, and change your entire world in about ten seconds. I'm speaking from my own experience."

Marcus grinned tiredly. "I wouldn't object to it Jen, that's for sure. She's a special girl. I get the sense that Rebecca's been very wounded by life, and I hope that we'll be able to keep her around in any case. Then again, she made it very clear before that the Congo is where she wants to be permanently, which would make New York only a temporary landing zone for her. I would hate to think that something could develop between them, only for her to leave."

Marcus had to laugh. "Listen to that, now you've got_ me _planning their future together. How about it April, would you like to take a crack at planning their wedding? Maybe we could work out all the details before they get home, save them some steps."

April shook her head at him. "Are you sure that's oxygen they've got you on Marc? I'm about to double-check that, you're sounding a little loopy."

"I _am_ a little loopy," he admitted. "I almost feel like I'm asleep with my eyes open."

"That sleeping thing works better if you shut them Marc," Jenna offered. "Actually, it'd probably be better if we shut our_ mouths _too. I'm sorry I got you going, maybe it was just wishful thinking. I want Mike to have a chance to experience love too, but not for the heck of it. If she's not sticking around, maybe it is too much of a reach."

The women left Marcus alone to get some sleep not long after that. The man had practically been dead to the world for four hours, which was an accomplishment in itself given the hospital environment with so much activity going on around him.

* * *

The only reason he even stirred a little after 6pm was because of his own residual cough. Marcus bolted upright as he tried to catch his breath properly, and sensed movement from his right side at the same time. He turned his head and laid eyes on someone sitting silently by the bedside, as though they'd been waiting for some time. A curse leaped to his mind, as he flopped back onto his pillow in frustration.

"What are you doing? How did you get here so fast?" Marcus asked at once.

"I've been in New York for days, waiting for you to get home," Robert Sloan replied. "The News released that you were back, and I assumed you'd want to be brought here. Marcus, there are so many things I need to say to you. You may not want to hear it, but I—"

"Dad," Marcus interrupted wearily. "I don't have the energy for this, okay? Can we please,_ please _just do it later? You can say whatever you want, but I'm going to need a few more hours before I can deal with it."

"I understand Marcus, I know you need to rest, and I wasn't even going to bother you if you didn't wake up on your own. I just have to tell you—"

"Are you really going to go ahead and start this anyway? Darn it, why can you listen to a single word that I say?"

"The only thing I'm trying to say right now is that I love you, and I'm glad you're home."

Marcus stared at his father for a long moment, unable to speak for being stunned.

Robert apparently decided to take advantage of that lapse. "Son, this has been the scariest period of time I've ever lived through. You're a grown man, and you've been completely on your own for decades. You've taken care of yourself without any help from me. And I…I think I thought you were better off that way, not having me in your life. I've been set in my ways Marcus, and it only got worse as I got older. It was easier to let you be happy and successful doing what you do, than to try and interfere, screw things up the way I always have. Ever since you were a boy…"

The sound of the man's voice breaking startled Marcus again, and he decided to stay silent awhile longer.

"I was almost never there for you from the start, and then with Jessie, when she…"

Marcus closed his eyes for an instant at the mention of his twin, as the day she died came rushing back faster than he could blink.

"I know it was my fault Marcus. I've known for years, but I never felt like there was a single thing I could do about it. Even apologizing felt like it would be an empty gesture, as if it would make up for the man that I am. So I did nothing instead, I ignored it…and you. I'm sorry. It's not enough, but I'm sorry for your whole life, for the father I've been."

Marcus swallowed sharply before speaking. "Dad…when I was a kid, I blamed you for what happened to her for awhile. You were drunk while she was dying, and to an 8 year old, it made it seem like it had to be your fault. But I grew up, and I realized that you weren't to blame for the fact that she had asthma. You didn't give it to her, any more than you gave it to me.

I haven't been waiting around almost forty years for an apology from you. I was waiting for you to be my father, and to be honest, I gave up waiting a long time ago. I didn't think you loved me enough to even attempt to make things work between us. If you're trying to prove me wrong, I guess I'm up for the challenge.

But this thing with Jessie Dad…there's no bringing her back, and living in guilt can't make up for the years that all of us lost. That was never what I wanted from you."

"Whatever I have to do to show you that I love you, to prove myself, I'm going to try Marcus. I _am_ trying already, I've been sober for three weeks."

"But I was only missing…"

"I know. It was the way we left off the day I came to see you. I don't know why it's taken this long to get this desperate. I'm not perfect Marcus, I'm never going to be. But if there's some part of you deep down that still wants me in your life, I'm going to jump on that."

Marc exhaled sharply, reaching an arm in the man's direction. "I don't expect you to be perfect. For you to even try is more than I dreamed you'd do at this point. I've been very cold toward you, so I know I need to work on this as much as you do. But I love you too."


	49. Strangers

Michelangelo dropped to his knees, and swiped a hand across his forehead. He was back in the tent for the first time since waking up that morning. The humidity level felt like it had risen to another all-time high overnight, so that even the simple activity of his morning katas left him a little more breathless than normal.

After rolling his blanket up properly, the turtle sat back down on the ground to inspect a few insect bites.

_Doc said not to go without the cloak, but that doesn't even keep everything out. I guess I've got to use more of that bug stuff that Becky's got._

As if she knew he was thinking of her, the young woman darted inside the tent with unusual speed.

"Hey Beck, I was thinking I might try—"

"Shh," Rebecca whispered urgently. "Mike, you've got to stay put for a minute, all right? Stay here, and I'll be back to explain as soon as I can."

Before Michelangelo even had a chance to say her name, Rebecca was back outside. The orange-masked turtle held his breath, questioning inwardly whether or not he should obey her orders. Mike ducked low to the ground, and crept closer to the entrance of the tent so that he might at least be able to _hear_ what in the world was going on.

Nothing registered at first, except for his own heartbeat that seemed to be picking up in his ears. A couple of long silent minutes passed, before he heard Rebecca's voice outside. She was speaking in another language, but the tone didn't feel the least bit worried or stressed. It was answered by two other voices, which didn't actually come as a surprise to him. The woman hadn't ordered him to stay in the tent just so she could have some time to talk to herself.

Michelangelo had to strain to hear the other voices, which sounded distinctly young. With nothing to do but sit and listen to the foreign tongue, he tried to shake off the residual anxiety. Rebecca sounded calm, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing in any case.

_Be cool Mikey, don't blow this. She'll get rid of them, whoever they are_.

Mike didn't have the presence of mind to keep track of how long they'd been talking, he simply listened to the sounds he couldn't make any sense out of. It wasn't until the voices quieted that he felt like he couldn't take it anymore, and had to fight to keep himself silent. A couple more tense minutes passed before Rebecca's curly head appeared at the entrance to their tent.

The woman exhaled sharply, and smiled at the turtle a little shakily. "I'm sorry about that. We had uninvited guests. I needed time to divert them, and get them out of here."

"So I figured. They sounded like kids."

Rebecca nodded. "I'm pretty sure they were both under ten years old."

"What were they doing out here Becky? What did they want from you?"

"They didn't come right out and say it Mike, but I think that there must be a village somewhere nearby. I mean, these kids are pretty independent out here, but they're not entirely self-sufficient. They were asking questions about how I was faring, and whether or not I needed help. They were perfectly friendly, but…"

"But what Becky?"

"It was odd," she admitted. "They seemed shy, but at the same time…Mikey, they _really_ wanted me to go with them. They were more skittish than some of the animals I've seen out here. It felt like…like they didn't want to let me out of their sight. Being shy of strangers is nothing unusual of course, but they were so adamant about trying to help me, that I spent most of that time politely refusing to go."

Michelangelo crossed his arms thoughtfully. "And they don't usually act like that, is that what you're saying?"

"Different tribes could have varying levels of acceptance of strangers, but no, I wouldn't expect that much insistence out of children I don't even know."

"I gotta say, it feels a little like we've been compromised here Becky. If _they_ found us, what's to stop someone else out of that village from coming to look us up?"

"They may," she answered. "On the other hand, it could provide me with an opportunity to contact your family directly. These people might appear to be living out of the stone age, but they can still surprise you. Several of the tribes out here have satellite TV and cell phones, believe it or not. The Congo itself has a few local cell phone towers too, they're just pretty few and far between. It could be worth having a look around myself, just in case one of their people has a phone. It _has_ been a number of days, and a little reassurance that the others are okay would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Michelangelo couldn't argue with that, but his gut instinct still didn't like the reaction those children had to Rebecca. "I um…I don't think you should trust them outright Becky, not unless you've got a good reason to. We should pack up our stuff, and be prepared to move quickly if we need to. I don't want to sound paranoid, but if this feels that weird, it's not worth taking the risk," he suggested, and the young woman nodded.

"It doesn't hurt to be cautious. Let's go ahead and take this stuff apart, and keep a sharp ear out for the rest of the day."

* * *

They spent the following hour not only re-packing their gear, but also replenishing their water supply in case it would be their last chance for awhile. Michelangelo was on edge toward every sound in the forest around them, a little distracted even as Rebecca tried to keep a conversation going with him. Mike was still staring off into space, when he realized that she'd said something else to him.

"I'm sorry, my mind is doing it's own thing," he apologized. "What did you say?"

"I asked you about Marc. It's funny, he never mentioned how he met all of you."

A grin broke through the serious expression he'd maintained to that point. "He was a nosy boy," Michelangelo volunteered. "He was doing some investigating into an old friend of his, one of _our _best human friends. Marc ended up finding a bigger mystery than he'd anticipated."

"So he stumbled onto you by accident?"

"More like Raph stumbled onto _him_, after Marc poked his head into the wrong place, at the wrong time. Actually, considering how things worked out, that's probably not the right way to say it, but it was pretty nerve-wracking at the time. Marcus basically trespassed into Luke's apartment without permission, and got up close and personal with an injured mutant turtle." The orange-masked turtle snorted suddenly. "Marc was in more danger from Luke at that point than he was from Raph. My bro kinda didn't even know he was there."

"I can't imagine how difficult it is to let people into your lives."

"In most cases, we don't really get a chance to stop and think about it. It just happens." Mike shrugged. "Truth is, Marc coming along when he did, it was a godsend. He was able to do more for Donny than anyone else could. If it weren't for Marc, Don probably wouldn't be practicing ninjutsu today."

"Was your brother Donny injured like Raphael?"

_Marc _didn't_ tell her everything, _Michelangelo thought swiftly_._

"By the time Marcus joined the family, Donny had been living with a bad knee injury for like a year. Luke couldn't do anything for him, except try to lead him through physical therapy, and control some of the pain. Thing is, it was getting worse, not better. It wasn't until Marc came into the picture that they could repair it, give him back his life again. We owe a lot to our docs Becky. They've been there for us through a ton of junk."

"And you're there for them," she pointed out.

"Yup. One big, happy family," he proclaimed without thinking, and then ducked his head. "That doesn't feel like the right thing to say to you."

"You think you can't be grateful for your family, just because I don't have one? Where's the reason in that Mikey?"

A few hours passed uneventfully, and Rebecca seemed completely relaxed about the brush she'd had with the natives. The uneasiness hadn't left Michelangelo however. In-between talking to her, his eyes were constantly roving, and he was straining to hear anything unusual. Part of him felt like the urges were overkill, but even telling himself that didn't take away from the nerves.

The afternoon wore on, and Rebecca was still behaving normally. Michelangelo was grateful that the day had been dry, but the onset of darkness was doing nothing for his anxiety about possibly being watched.

"I guess we're going to have to put our camp back together," Rebecca mentioned, as twilight was setting in.

"Yeah, I 'spose," Michelangelo mumbled, and his troubled expression must have been obvious to her.

"They really don't have a reason to bother with us Mike, and they don't know about you. I think we're all right to settle down for another night, but we could also push forward if it's still bothering you that much."

Michelangelo got to his feet stiffly. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be jumpy. Being out here in a new place, not knowing how these people think, I think it might be…"

The turtle trailed off without finishing, and snatched for the duffel bag that was housing their tent. As he started unzipping it again, the kind of sixth sense that had been developed over the years of training kicked into overdrive. If he _had_ any hair, it probably would have been standing on end.

Mike swung the bag over his shoulder, and motioned to the woman severely. "C'mon Becky, quick!"

She snatched up the nearby belongings, and followed without even trying to argue with him. Michelangelo didn't speak as he rapidly led her into deeper overgrowth. They'd been moving uphill for a couple of minutes, before her voice spoke up quietly behind him.

"What is it Mike, did you hear something?"

"Hold on, just hold on a minute," he urged as he dropped to the forest floor, and looked back over the looming hill they'd partially ascended.

The appearance of what looked like torches below affirmed what he'd been suspecting all along – someone was coming for them. The small fires dotted through the trees, and crowded into their old clearing over a dozen strong.

"Mike, those children only acted like they wanted to help. Their intentions could be friendly."

"Do they look friendly to you Becky? 'Cause it reminds me more of a mob."

"They don't look like they're carrying weapons. I think I should try talking to them Mike, I have a lot of experience with the natives. If there's a chance of finding a phone…"

"Rebecca, you don't really know if you can trust them!" he shot back insistently.

"It's impossible to know _anything_ for certain," she countered stubbornly. "How do I know I can even trust you completely?"

Michelangelo's mouth opened, and then snapped shut in angry disappointment. "If you can't figure that out by now, nothing I have to say is going to convince you differently."


	50. Unfriendly

Rebecca fidgeted nervously on the ground, feeling less sure about the situation in front of them now than she had to begin with. She glanced over at the orange-masked turtle, but he wasn't looking at her. Michelangelo's steady gaze was resting on the torch-bearing men, his posture completely rigid.

"Are you listening to any of this?" he asked her suddenly.

"Um…I can't hear very much. I think we need to get a little closer," she ventured.

The turtle sighed softly. "Stay close to the ground, try not to make any noise whatsoever. We're gonna do this real slow like, just follow my lead."

Rebecca held her breath, and moved very deliberately behind Michelangelo. She was already distracted over guilt. Rebecca was quite certain that she'd hurt the turtle's feelings with her callous statement, and now struggling to focus on the issue at hand.

_Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut? Why do I have to think that I have such a handle on all these people? Nanji managed to blind-side me and I sure knew him better than any of the natives down there._

Rebecca shook her head, as if willing the thoughts to stop accosting her.

_Now isn't the time to multi-task stupid. If you blow this, you risk exposing Mikey._

Rebecca almost ran into Michelangelo when he stopped suddenly, and then glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Can you hear them any better?" he asked.

Rebecca raised her head and cocked it to one side, as if it would improve her hearing. "I think this will work. Now let me just…"

She cut herself off when one booming voice rose over the others, as if trying to gain dominance over the other voices present.

"…_Why wasn't I told of this earlier today? As it is, she has had hours already to put into an escape!"_

Rebecca's heart skipped inside of her chest, and she automatically back-pedaled from their position.

"What?" Michelangelo whispered swiftly. "What did he say?'

"Just a minute," she hardly breathed. Rebecca needed to hear more, even if she didn't necessarily want to at this point.

"…_They were children Turac, and they've been known to make up stories before! How were we supposed to believe that one of those people the FDLR is looking for would turn up on our doorstep? No one expected it!" _another voice returned.

Rebecca tugged on Michelangelo's arm. "Let's go, right now, away from here."

The turtle didn't bother asking why again, but silently turned and led her back the way they'd already come. It wasn't until they reached their hidden observation point further away that Michelangelo caught her by the sleeve.

"Okay, now what the shell? What did they say?"

"The FDLR is still looking for me," she said in a flat unemotional tone.

"The who?"

"The people who abducted Marc and me. They're a very powerful, long established rebel organization which was originally based out of Rwanda. I think they must be using these natives to try and widen their search range. This is unbelievable. I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you, I shouldn't have—"

"Hang on, there are so many things about this that don't add up. How would _those_ people know who you were? Why would they go along with the rebels? They're not exactly friendly, right? Why would the rebels bother chasing you, and how could they find us if they had? We must have covered miles of territory on the river alone. How do they know where to look?"

"That's a lot of questions at once Mike, give me a second. There were men on that ridge, remember, before the kamikaze jump into the river? They would have seen it. That wouldn't tell them where to look, but it would point them in a specific direction."

Rebecca stared at the ground for a few seconds, before going on. "Marc says that you guys understand honor. These rebels do too, but it's a more twisted version. For someone to walk into their territory and 'violate' them the way you did, it would be a tremendous insult to their pride. Their leader is probably only trying to save his own face, to revenge the blow that was committed against his honor.

I thought they might try to pursue us, but I had no clue they could organize anything this quickly, or how they could help natives to recognize me. I guess we're just going to have to run, and give a wide berth to all strangers."

Michelangelo was visibly disturbed, more so than she'd witnessed thus far. "You didn't explain why these people would want to go along with them."

"Oh, I'm sure that there's some reward involved Mike. People can become very motivated for a price, and in times of need like these, it doesn't even require a huge bribe. Should we get moving?"

"Not yet. I wanna wait for them to leave, I need to head back for something."

"What? Why? We have all of our stuff here with us!"

"Rebecca, one of those guys crumpled up something, I saw it hit the ground when we were closer by. It looked like some kind of paper – I just want the chance to see what it is."

_Back to my full name are we? Darn it, I'm such an idiot. Why did I question if I could trust him to his face that way? Why did I question it at _all_?_

They waited in silence for the "mob" to disperse, as the higher stakes they were contending with resounded strongly in Rebecca's mind. The torches moved forward , rather than back in the direction they'd originally come from, indicating that the men were going to continue searching for awhile.

Michelangelo rose a couple of inches off the ground. "All right, I'm going to jog back over there, see if I find anything. Stay here with our stuff, and don't move a muscle, understand?'

"But Mike, what if they're still close by? What if—"

"I'm a ninja, okay? I can handle it. I blend in really well, and it's dark now anyway. So just stay put, and I'll be back as soon as I can."

Rebecca hated the detached tone of the turtle's voice, so different sounding from what she'd come to expect from him over the last five days together.

_Well, what did you expect? He's been nothing but wonderful and helpful to you, yet you still have to question his integrity? Of course he's hurt, he has every right to be._

Rebecca dropped heavily on a rock with a sharp sigh, and didn't move from the position for about twenty minutes, not until the turtle was beside her suddenly, with nothing to even announce his arrival. Michelangelo had startled her enough that she jerked to her feet, but Rebecca didn't bother complaining about how quiet he was again. It didn't feel appropriate.

"Did you find something?" she asked.

Wordlessly he handed her the crumpled flyer, and she smoothed it out in her hands. Rebecca could tell that it included photos, but she needed the flashlight in order to get a good look at them or the text of it.

"Wow," she said faintly, after a couple of minutes had passed. "I can't tell you how weird it is to feel like a wanted criminal. Where in the world did they even get these photos? I never saw them take them."

Rebecca hadn't expected Mike to answer that, but he did anyway.

"I've seen them," he announced , as if he'd just realized where. "They were posted on the internet, along with the stories about the abduction."

"Boy, that's ironic," she mumbled. "There's a phone number on there for a contact point."

"But not all these natives are carrying phones in their back pocket, are they?"

"No, not even close…but they'd probably know where to find one Mike. What do we do now? Obviously we can't stay here, but moving around at night isn't the most desirable course of action either." Rebecca faltered. "Some of the nastiest animals are most active this time of day, and we could quickly lose our sense of direction without using the compass. We have limited battery to even _see_ it by."

"We don't have a choice," Mike replied. "I think we should travel as far as we can, and worry about resting later."

The remaining anxiety in his voice concerned her greatly. "Mike, what is it? What are you thinking?"

The turtle looked at the ground, and in that moment she assumed it was just that he was upset with her. She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke up first.

"I don't have a good feeling about any of this. If those rebel dudes could have made it this far in five days to recruit villagers for their efforts, my brothers should have been here already. I know them, they would have pushed night and day if they had to. So that tells me, either my gut's wrong and they're not okay…or something is keeping them from finding us."

Michelangelo was quiet for another few seconds, and then glanced at his bicep. "Our beacons have gotten messed up before. I wouldn't think that the water could have screwed with the implant, but I don't know anything about this tech stuff either. That's all Don's deal."

He sighed heavily. "I'm the wrong one for this," he mumbled. "This isn't what I'm good at. We need a plan or a solution, and I don't have either."

"Mike…you told me a couple of days ago, not to put all this pressure on myself to perform. You called this a partnership, and it still is. This doesn't change anything. I'm very sorry for saying what I did, I didn't mean it, especially how it came out. I don't know everything about this country or these people. I could have led myself right into a trap today…and all the while, I have the nerve to question your intentions. There was no reason or call for it. I'm sorry."

His shoulders barely rose in a half-hearted shrug. "You were caught up in a moment. It's okay Becky. And you _don't_ know me that well, I can't blame you for not being comfortable with me yet."

"Mike, I'm more comfortable with you than I've been with anyone in a long time. I truly apologize for acting like _you're _the bad guy."

"Let it go," Michelangelo advised her. "It's not a big deal, and it's over. We've got other stuff to focus on, like where the heck to go from here."

"Logically speaking, we wouldn't want to put more space between us and where your brothers ended up. You said they were close to Beni?"

He nodded. "So, what then? We start back-tracking I guess. If we followed the river, it'd be a sure bet we wouldn't get more lost than we already are," Mike finished impishly, and Rebecca breathed an inward sigh of relief. His humor re-emerging could mean nothing by good as far as she was concerned.

"It would be safer to follow the actual land-mark than to take off across country, but we stand the risk of being spotted from the road too," she told him.

"All we can do is try. We've sat out here five days already, and if the Calvary can't come to us, I say that it's time for us to go to them," Mike said decisively.

"I agree."

As they started the hike back toward the Congo River, Rebecca's gaze began drifting over to the turtle time and time again. She could almost see the physical battle being waged in his psyche, as he struggled to recover from the anxiety that was plaguing him. Rebecca's mind wandered further as she kept an even pace with Michelangelo, hating that he had to be traveling more slowly on her account alone.

_I think he's more scared for his brothers right now, than he's been for us this entire time. If I wasn't with him, he'd probably be sprinting as fast as he could to get where he thought he needed to be, to help defend his family._

An unbidden chill ran down her spine, and she shuddered before she could contain it.

_Protective at all costs…that's how Marc described them. He couldn't have hit that nail any harder on the head. I wish—_

Michelangelo's arm startled her out of the thought process, reassuring in the way it loosely encircled her back.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. "I don't want to push this too hard, I just want to make sure that we put plenty of distance between us and the lords of the flame."

Rebecca chuckled for the first time in several hours. "I'm fine Mike, I'm right with you. What you said before, about not knowing if you could trust your gut…I don't think you should doubt yourself. It's pretty obvious that you and your brothers have a very strong connection, and I don't believe you should question whether or not they're all right. It's a great big rainforest, and there are a million reasons they could have been hampered in their ability to find us. I think you should try to assume that they're okay, until you have a reason to think otherwise. So on that note…let's hold onto that positive tone you've been setting for days, and keep moving forward."

"I think you mean backward."

"Yeah, okay wise guy, backward it is," Rebecca shot back.

Rebecca could just barely make out the turtle's grin in the dim moonlight, and something inside of her sighed contentedly. They were going to have an uphill battle ahead of them; there was no doubt of that in her mind. But as long as Mike was with her, she had the distinct feeling that they could get through any of it. The turtle wasn't a quitter, and she wasn't about to lie down and die either.

_It won't be the hardest journey ever made, but it's still going to be quite a trek. Part of me is terrified, but the other part…_

Rebecca didn't finish the thought, cheeks flushing when the turtle's arm returned to steady her on an embankment.

_The other part is really enjoying the feeling of being protected._

The inward thought unexpectedly provoked tears, though she didn't understand why at first. The more she pondered the sensation, the more it made sense to her.

_This is what I've been missing, what I'd accepted I'd have to live without. I never thought I'd find the answer to all my weird insecurities, by being kidnapped in the rainforest._


	51. Survivor

Donatello was grateful to be stretching his injured limb for the first real trip in days, but at the same time, he wished he actually had somewhere to go. Luke had kept him off of it for the whole day even after he'd completed sutures, and the purple-masked turtle knew that he was still on a very short leash with the man.

Donatello understood his reasoning perfectly, but he was so frustrated with inaction after six days in the cavern that he was ready to burst. He had snapped at Luke unnecessarily that morning, thereby prompting his oldest brother to intervene in his own way.

When Leonardo had drawn him outside, Donny had expected to get some sort of speech from him, but so far, he'd been mostly quiet. The two turtles trekked silently through the nearby trees that were directly at the bottom of their ridge. Donny welcomed the silence, but couldn't help repeatedly glancing at Leonardo, and wondering when the blue-masked turtle was going to start in on him.

Donatello's eyes fell on his brother's embattled shell, wincing at the scars that remained as witness to the shrapnel that had buried there. He forced himself to turn away from it. Reaching up, he twisted to snap two fingers close to Leonardo's left ear instead.

Donatello grinned when his brother instantly looked at him. "Just testing," he commented, as Leonardo's hand instantly went to his ear.

"It's clear Donny, ever since I woke up yesterday. It's a huge relief too; that really wasn't something I wanted to live with," Leonardo said, and lapsed back into a meditative silence.

Donatello straightened his own shoulders, and tried to focus on the calm of his surroundings, as if molding his mind to adopt the same state. He and Leonardo weren't anywhere close to running, but they were still trotting at a pretty steady pace. It wasn't very long at all before the muscles in Donny's injured leg started to protest, and he pulled up short. Donatello released a giant sigh as Leonardo stopped beside him, and they both paused under a canopy of branches that almost resembled an archway.

"Fearless, I don't know how much further I should go. My leg still isn't perfect, and it won't help anything for me to strain it," Donatello said. "I thought being out here might calm me down. I've been trying to quiet myself and shut down all that negativity, it's just hard. I hate being idle, and I hate being clueless.

Mostly, I hate not knowing where he could 're left sitting in the hapless hands of some corrupt Congolese official, until he decides to turn back up. I can't _stand_ this Leo!"

Greg was on a strong track with negotiations in Mbandaka to retrieve the scanner that had been confiscated from Luke, but now they were at a stand-still, while the man who'd absconded with the device had disappeared from the city on "other business". The rest of the powers that be claimed to have no knowledge of the scanner's whereabouts, so all Greg could do was wait for the man himself to return.

Donatello glanced at Leonardo strangely when his brother still didn't say anything, and the purple-masked turtle finally plunked down on the ground. "Why are we here Leo? What are we doing?"

"I didn't bring you here to lecture you Donny, I know how high your level of frustration has to be. We're all feeling it, but you in particular tend to take a heavier responsibility in situations like this one. You're used to being busy, that's your outlet. I think it's your method for dealing with the stress of it, besides the fact that things simply have to be done. It's much easier to work through the things you can accomplish, instead of focusing on the ones you can't control. You don't have that medium right now, so I was only trying to see if you could release some of this energy another way. If being quiet helps, that's great. If you'd rather talk, my ears are open."

Donatello's gaze focused overhead, on the brightly colored birds that were flitting from branch to branch with lilting songs. He stayed fixed on the scene above him as if transfixed by it, waiting several seconds before responding to Leonardo.

"I can't fake my way around this Leo. I can't force myself to relax properly."

"I recall you seeming much calmer a few days ago," Leonardo pointed out.

"Exactly_, days _ago Leo! How am I supposed to act like everything's okay? I don't even feel like myself without him here."

"Donny…I know this is harder on you in some ways than it is us. But I want you to think about Mikey now, not in the sense that something terrible could have happened, but in the terms of what you know he's capable of. I know deep inside of me that Mike is strong enough to make it out there. Even if he's stranded, he'll find a way to survive. He doesn't need one of us holding his hand to guide him, Mike's had all the training he needs to make it.

That's what I'm trying to trust in, reminding myself that he's not a kid anymore than the rest of us. He's a warrior, and he can be extremely resourceful. Mike's got a good outlook, and I'm sure he's not panicking. He's also got someone else to protect, which tells me he'll be working that much harder to hold things together.

These last few days have sapped some of your confidence, but now you need to put it back where it belongs. Mikey's tough, he can hold on Donny. We're going to find him; you know we're not leaving until we do. You're focusing on everything you can't do right now, and it's making you miss other important things…like the fact that Doc is still blaming _himself_ for a lot of what's happened."

Donatello's gaze faltered again. "And I have to go and get all impatient with him too. Darn it. You could have led with that Leo."

"You need to hear the other stuff too."

"Yeah, I guess. You're right Leo, he's not weak. I know he can take care of himself. It's easy for me to get caught up in everything that can go wrong, but it really does nothing for the nerves."

"Then I suggest you start taking some deeper breaths, try _not _to expect the absolute worst, and trust your little brother to hang in there."

"He's probably so ready for a real meal by now…" Donatello shook his head with a small smile. "I hope Rebecca's not trying to get him to eat insects or something. I know it's a perfectly acceptable food source for several people groups, I just can't picture Mike ever going for it. He might starve first."

Leonardo punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You never know, he could come up with a way to make them taste good. This is Mikey we're talking about, he's pretty creative."

"You're seriously reaching Fearless," Donatello mused, and then looked over his shoulder in the direction of the ridge. "I think we should head back. I need to talk to Doc, and get off this leg again."

As they started the trip back to the cavern they were calling home, Donatello already felt somewhat more at ease, and grateful for the time they'd spent outside the cramped living space.

"Honestly, this camp-out would be so much more fun if Mike was here," Donny commented. "He sure had the coffee thing down better than anyone else has managed so far."

Leonardo nodded mock sympathetically. "Right, your caffeine fix. That's all that this has been about, isn't it?" he teased Donatello.

"You can't help what you crave." Donatello groaned as if in physical pain of withdrawal, and then rolled his eyes slightly. "Maybe Doc will let me try to do a couple of things for myself now, and I could make my own attempt at it."

"If it'll make you happy Donny, I'll put a bug in his ear," Leonardo offered.

"Sure, like you can make him do anything."

"Where negotiations fail, there are still other methods of persuasion," Leonardo said with a wink. "You just have to know how to apply the right pressure, at the right time."

"Is _everything_ a matter of strategy to you Leo?"

"I'm only trying to help you here, but if you don't want it I guess…" Leonardo stopped suddenly in his stride, and held out a muscular arm to halt Donatello as well.

"What Leo?" Donatello whispered, so serious was his brother's expression. "What's wrong?"

Leonardo stood still for a few seconds, before inching forward slightly. "Real quiet like Donny, follow me."

A little mystified, the purple-masked turtle obeyed. They were crossing within range of a running creek. Leonardo was aware of its' existence, he'd already explained to Donatello that the men had been supplementing some of their water supply through it.

With the blue-masked turtle leading the way, Donatello could only guess what he was actually doing right now, but expected that something had to be nearby.

"There. Oh _wow _Donny, look, look right now!" Leonardo said in a stifled whisper, and made room for Donatello to see through the break in the brush.

A flash of a spotted coat was the first thing to catch Donatello's eye, and he stiffened at the sight of the leopard hovering by the edge of the water. When the animal shifted positions, he could make out the smaller bundles of spots on the ground beside her.

"Wow is right," Donatello murmured quietly. "She's beautiful, and those cubs…they're probably big enough to accompany her on the hunts now."

"I say we give them plenty of space," Leonardo suggested. "We should warn the others about them too, I'm sure she's nothing to mess around with."

"No, not a good idea," Donatello agreed. "It's still amazing to see though."

They quietly backed out of their perch, and resumed walked back toward the ridge.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live in a place like this Leo?"

The blue-masked turtle nodded. "Not Congo specifically, but somewhere remote, sure. God knows it would be easier on us in a lot of ways, maybe even more healthy."

"I don't see how it could be less," Donatello quipped. "But even with the advantages, we'd still be leaving too many things behind. It almost feels like it would be selfish in a way, like we'd be abandoning the city to its' own fate. Not that we're the only thing holding New York together, but you have to understand what I mean."

"With great power, comes great responsibility," Leonardo said solemnly.

"Okay _Spiderman_." Donatello laughed.

"You have to admit it was appropriate."

"Appropriate yes, original no."

"Like you come up with all your own lines?" Leonardo challenged playfully, and exhaled. "Seriously though…I don't know if we'll be doing this for the rest of our lives, until kingdom comes, or we're all too old to fight anymore. As of right now, I can't imagine leaving the city for good. It's a heavy price to pay, yet even so…"

"It's worth it," Donatello affirmed. "I don't know why, but it is," he finished less seriously.

Leonardo's arm came back around him, as the ridge came into their line of sight. "The hour is probably decent enough that we could check in with the girls back in the States."

"You've been counting that down with your watch, haven't you?" Donatello grinned.

"You mean you don't want to talk to Jenna too? I know better than that Donny. You wanna race to see who uses the phone first?"

"Yeah, that'd be fair Leo, me being all gimpy and everything."

Leonardo laughed more freely than he had in a few days. "I guess I won't take complete advantage of you Don. Good talk bro."

"Yeah Leo, you too."


	52. Normal

Michelangelo jerked awake with a start. A rustling sound had come directly outside their tent, and he instantly rose into a crouch on guard. Mike listened carefully for a few moments, and heard a very similar sound again, moving around not far from where they'd finally set up camp, after walking for nearly half the night. It was an exercise in several different risks that the orange-masked turtle wasn't interested in repeating, but now it was the furthest thing from his mind.

Michelangelo threw a swift glance over at Rebecca, who hadn't so much as stirred yet. A smile crept onto his face at the sight of her sleeping, but then he recalled why he'd woken up to begin with. The turtle bent over, and nudged her shoulder lightly to wake her.

Rebecca started upright, and he applied a small amount of pressure to keep her on the ground.

"Shh," he warned her. "I'm hearing something outside. I wanna check it out, but I wanted you to know about it first."

"Hold on!" she hissed back. "Aren't _you_ the one who can't afford to be seen?"

"That was before you joined the ranks of the Congo's Most Wanted," Mike replied. "Stay put for a minute, okay? I'm not even sure that it really sounded…"

Michelangelo trailed off mid-whisper, as the distinct call of a primate hit their ears.

"Human," he finished.

Rebecca had risen to her knees by this time too, but was still waiting. "Go and look, and I'll still hold back if you want."

"No, I'm pretty sure it must be okay. Those guys wouldn't stick around if a bunch of men were here, would they?"

Rebecca shook her head.

"Then c'mon, let's go see what it is."

Michelangelo ducked out of the tent first, and came to stand a couple of feet away from a group of monkeys, who looked like they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. He didn't move another inch until Rebecca came outside behind Mike, and he cast her a curious glance.

"What are they Becky? I mean, they're monkeys right? But they gotta have some other name, it's like a rule or something."

"They're bonobos, related to the more common chimpanzee, with some subtle differences."

"Are they friendly?"

"They're not likely to get aggressive, but they also have good reason not to go near humans," she said a little sadly. "They've been heavily preyed upon as bushmeat. The DRC is the only place where they can still be found outside of captivity."

The largest primate of the group wasn't backpedaling as quickly as the others were, and seemed content to study Michelangelo, with dark eyes that almost seemed rational.

"He looks like he wants to talk to me." Michelangelo chuckled, though he never took his eyes off the black face that was gazing at him.

The bonobo stretched upright, raising both arms over his head in what looked like a curious gesture. He still didn't move toward the turtle, but he wasn't retreating yet either.

"I think he likes you," Rebecca commented.

"Nah, he's just baffled. We have that effect on a lot of guys." Michelangelo sat down slowly on the ground, trying not to make any sudden moves or jerks that would startle the shy creature.

The animal settled back down on his own long legs, almost as if he was imitating the turtle's motion.

"How smart are they Becky?"

"They're extremely intelligent," she told him. "Studies have even shown that they're capable of displaying several types of emotions, and human behaviors."

The strange encounter lasted for a couple more minutes, until the call of another bonobo made the male straighten up slightly, and then rise back to his feet.

"Uh oh, he must have gotten his marching orders. His queen has spoken." Becky giggled.

"He has a queen?'

"Some people refer to the alpha female that way. The male is their bulldog, and he's in charge of leading their progress too, but if his counterpart decides she's not moving forward, the rest of the pack will follow _her_. He's like their General, but she gets to have the final say on things."

Michelangelo chuckled as he watched the bonobo disappear from sight. "Some patterns tend to repeat themselves, I've seen it in _all_ my brothers. Those girls have them so wrapped around their fingers, they'd do anything for them. Not that it's a bad thing, it's just funny to compare."

Rebecca gave him an interested glance. "You said two of your brothers are 'married' in the symbolic sense of the word…"

"Donny and Raph. Actually, Don's the old pro at this by now. He met Jen when he was only sixteen years old."

"And she's the one related to the Australian Diplomats?"

"Well not exactly related, not by blood. Jenna was adopted from Australia, but her parents are—were American."

"Were?"

"Her Mom still is obviously, but her Dad died a few years ago. Makes for the _second_ father she's lost violently in her lifetime."

Rebecca's eyebrows rose. "Wow, that sounds rough."

Michelangelo turned so that he would be facing her, taking in the full sight of the young woman, while trying to not to be obvious about it. Rebecca's curls were loose for the first time in the last few days, in addition to not being covered up by anything else.

The smile the woman gave him in return looked embarrassed. "Are you looking at my hair? It's awful, I know. It goes crazy in the humidity, and I can't even control it."

"I like seeing it," he said without thinking, and then cleared his throat awkwardly. "I don't think it looks bad, you could let it breathe more often if you want," Michelangelo tried to finish jokingly.

"There are things I'm not strong with, and appearance is one of them," she said matter-of-factly. "But I don't want to bore you with my little quirks; we were talking about your brothers."

"You're not boring me Becky, I _want_ to hear more about you. I kinda feel like you're still playing hide and seek with me."

She sighed softly. "I'm not trying to, honestly. Your life is so much more full than mine is, that it's easier to talk about you. We can get around to my turn again, but do you mind if I ask you something else first?'

"Nope. Open book, right here in front of you." He grinned.

"All your brothers are in active relationships, but what about you? Has there ever been someone special in your life?"

"There are lots of special people in my life Becky, but if you're talking about being like 'involved' with somebody…then no. At least, not yet. It's not that I've never thought about it, or that I don't ever want it, it just hasn't hit me that way with anyone in the…" Michelangelo almost said _past_, but thought better of it. It would be nice to keep some level of control over his mouth.

"It's never been like that with anyone before," Mike went on after a beat. "My brothers try to be sensitive about it…too much sometimes. I wish they'd quit worrying about me, and believe that I can just be happy for them. I _am_ happy for them."

After another pause, he locked gazes with her again. "What about you? Has there ever been somebody before, anyone to write home about?" he asked playfully, trying to maintain a light quality to his voice.

"Not mutually," she replied.

Michelangelo shook his head in amazement. "That doesn't make sense to me."

"I'm not the most outgoing person on the planet Mike, never been that confident either. I used to idolize my sister when we were younger. She seemed to have it all together, in a neat little package. Hannah was beautiful, talented, funny…and everyone loved her. When she walked into a room, sometimes it would just stop. She had this way with people…they were drawn to her like some kind of magic." Rebecca paused for a couple of seconds, her voice straining a little when she started talking again.

"And Hannah had a good heart. People would have probably worshipped her if she encouraged it, but she didn't let it go to her head. She was still selfless, so giving. It would be better if she was here, if she'd survived through all that. Hannah was strong enough to live a normal life, she would have been okay. Not like I've been, not closed off to the world at large."

Rebecca acted like she was going to continue, but then stopped herself. "Dang it, I'm sorry. I can't even have a normal conversation about her with getting emotional."

"Why do you think she was so much better than you?" Michelangelo asked after a moment of hesitation.

"It's not a matter of what I think Mike, she just _was_. And I'm not the only one who…" Rebecca faltered again, shoulders slumping further as if they were being physically weighed down by something.

"You're not the only what?" he asked.

When she didn't answer, he folded his arms across his chest. "You're not leaving off there Becky. What were you going to say?"

"I'm not the only one who thinks so," she said quietly, as if a hundred people were listening.

"What do you mean? Who compared the two of you that way?"

Rebecca huffed softly, sounding like she was sorry she'd brought it up at all. "People are people. I shouldn't take things to heart, but I've never been good at letting stuff roll off my back."

Michelangelo gave her a stern look, and the young woman seemed to wilt under it.

"No one said anything to my face Mikey, I only heard people talking a couple of times. Family of course, back in Kansas."

"What did they say?"

"It was just a couple times," she repeated. "They could tell how awkward and out of place I was. Some of them knew that Hannah would have coped better than I could. Someone said that the wrong sister probably survived."

Michelangelo's fist slammed into the ground so hard that it hurt, but he didn't even care. "Shell, I'd better never meet any of these people Becky, or I'm gonna have to knock somebody's block off."

The young woman looked a little shocked by the display, but then actually smiled. "They're not worth it Mike, and they're all the way in Kansas anyway."

"Hello? Look where we are. Have plane, will travel. I think that should be our new motto."

She laughed easily enough, and looked grateful to shift the conversation. "I see. So the vigilante business is officially going abroad?"

"Maybe, we'd just have to hire Heff to be our full-time pilot. He'd probably get a kick out of it. Heck, I bet _Donny_ could handle the controls of that thing by now. It doesn't take him long to get that kinda stuff down."

"Marcus said he was a genius."

"Sometimes, I think that word doesn't even say enough about him. The stuff he's capable of, Beck, it would blow your mind. And then he can _still _kick someone's tail faster than you can blink."

"You've talked about him a lot," she remarked.

The orange-masked turtle nodded. "You remind me of him in some ways, it's sort of natural to relate the two of you."

"I'll take that as a compliment, though I can't imagine comparing myself to a genius."

"You'll see what I mean when you meet him Becky. Donny and me…we're pretty tight. All of us are family, and we're there for each other constantly, but it's still a little different with him. The whole group's gotten closer over the last few years, but the thing that Donny and I forged as partners will never change. Did you get along well with your sister?"

"We were practically inseparable Mike. I could have been jealous of her, and maybe a portion of me really was deep down, but we loved each other very much."

Rebecca smiled suddenly. "We used to have so much fun together, we'd get into trouble for not going to sleep. We'd stay up laughing and laughing…until our sides hurt."

She paused for another contemplative moment. "It's always been kind of the same story with me. Even growing up, I sometimes felt like two different people. There's the side of me that can actually relax and have fun like a normal person…and there's the quiet funked out girl that doesn't belong anywhere she goes. I have to admit that I haven't tried very hard to forge any relationships since I lost my family. Being the way I am, it's easier to stay on my own, but it's also a disappointing way to live. I don't think anyone's main goal in life is to be boring."

"You're not boring," Mike said quickly. "But I do think you need to start being nicer to yourself. You'd probably never talk about somebody else the same way I've heard you refer to _yourself_."

"I'm just being realistic Mike. I'm not the life of anyone's party, and I never will be. I'm not one of those pretty girls who has the guys chasing them down, or-"

"Who says you're not pretty?"

"Oh no, you're not baiting me with that again," she said sardonically, effectively avoiding the question.

"Maybe I'm just a mutant, and my opinion doesn't really matter, but I've seen a lot of girls Becky, so I think I have some perspective on it. You _are_ pretty, whether you wanna believe it or not."

The words were embarrassing even coming off his tongue, but he felt like she needed to hear them.

"You're not just a mutant," she corrected instantly.

"And you're not ugly, so I don't want to hear anything else about what's physically wrong with you. You've got so many good things going for you Becky. What would be wrong with focusing on them for a change?'


	53. Fireflies

*** Aw, I've had a lot of fun with Mike and Becky. I almost posted this additional chapter last night, but then again, tomorrow's is probably going to have to be a double-header. Don't want to get too far ahead of myself. On another note, the song "Fireflies" belongs to Owl City.**

* * *

Twilight had settled in, but Michelangelo and Rebecca were still on the move. They'd agreed that traveling after dark wasn't the best solution for their current situation, but for some reason that Mike didn't understand, Rebecca had asked to push a little further past nightfall.

They'd taken up following the river again that afternoon, only to run into tremendously rocky terrain. Without having rock-climbing equipment, and Michelangelo had resigned himself to the fact that their going was about to get a lot slower, until Rebecca offered another suggestion.

"The truth is, we _could_ cut across country, and meet back up with the river at an easier point. We might even save some time that way. It would just mean having to completely rely on that compass you found. I'm fairly confident about the direction we'd need to travel, but I can't guarantee I won't get us lost if we abandon the river."

"You're not actually lost, unless you can't find your way back the way you came," Michelangelo offered.

"That's most intuitive Mikey, but the deeper into the forest we go, the greater chances we have of not even being able to _recognize_ where we came from originally."

"Do you want me to start leaving a trail of bread crumbs?'

"Bread crumbs? Are you holding out on me?" She laughed.

"No, you know like Hansel and Gretel, and…y'get my point."

"I do," she said more seriously. "It would be simple enough to leave some kind of physical markings to chart our progress, but I'm not certain we'd want to leave behind a trail that someone tracking us could follow."

Michelangelo managed to refrain from rolling his eyes at himself.

_Duh bonehead. Rule number one when you're being followed – don't lead someone directly to you._

"I guess I'm going to have to trust in your awesome guide skills then," he said cheerily. "But can I ask when the bus plans to pull over for the night?"

Rebecca flashed the turtle an amused smile. "You see the way that our path has been gradually ascending? I think we should keep going until we get close to the top, set up camp for the night on the higher ground. We've still got a bit of a climb ahead of us, are you up for it?" she asked feistily.

The orange-masked turtle laughed. "Am I up for it? What are we doing standing around _talking_?"

Michelangelo was tempted to challenge her to a race, but decided against wasting the energy and required effort. He was learning to conserve more motion than he normally would have, to make up for their limited food and water supply. Mike didn't want to use up their natural resources faster than they could replenish them.

_Man, what I wouldn't give for an extra large pizza right now. This could about be a record number of days I haven't had any, if you count from since we first got here._

He was just starting to imagine toppings, when he forced himself to cut off the daydream.

_You're only going to make yourself hungrier, and you're not starving at any rate._

Yet food _was_ something that they'd have to address. Now that they were traveling instead of only hanging around their camp-site, they would need to start consuming more to make up for everything they were burning through.

_Now's not the time to worry about that though, and you're not in any danger of dying from malnutrition _tomorrow, he told himself ironically.

Michelangelo snuck a glance at Rebecca, silently admiring the young woman's drive. He hadn't expected to push as far as they had that day with the late start they'd gotten, but her energy level had been unflagging

_Shell, she sure can keep plugging away. Girl's not afraid of pushing herself hard, I'm gonna have to watch better to make sure it's not too much. She seems like she understands her limits pretty well, but still…_

That alone wasn't going to stop him from checking up on her, and he reached out to graze her shoulder at that very moment. "You holding up okay? You don't have to be shy about stopping for a breather or anything."

"Don't underestimate me turtle." Her tone was surprisingly playful. "I'm certain you can outpace me, but you might be surprised how far I can go without dropping. I still run through my own share of workouts for therapy, though nothing as intensive as your ninjutsu."

Michelangelo flushed somewhat in the darkness, grateful that she wouldn't be able to see it. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm not trying to treat you like some little woman."

"No, you're trying to be considerate, and I appreciate it. But I'm fine – I can make it to the top of this thing no problem."

Michelangelo's grin returned as he shifted his duffle bag to his opposite shoulder, and they continued climbing. They'd fallen into a comfortable silence, with only the sound of the night-time insects accompanying them for a couple of minutes.

Mike felt Rebecca's gaze, but when he turned to acknowledge it, the young woman had already broken the contact. An involuntary chill traveled over his arms, as he forced his own eyes forward.

_This is crazy. I had no idea it could even feel like this, not this fast_.

It brought an unnatural sense of nerves with it, which he still hadn't figured out how to deal with.

_This seemed so much simpler when I was telling Donny to take a chance all those times. But Jen was honest with him about how she felt right up front, she never wanted him to question whether she wanted it or not. I'm pretty sure Becky trusts me now, but as far as anything else goes…I'd be fooling myself to assume anything. It's not like she's made some kind of move on me, or shown any interest that—_

Rebecca's fingers lightly grasping his elbow shut down the thought.

"We're almost there. Let's leave our stuff here, and I want to show you something. This is one of the best times of year to see it," she told him.

Michelangelo readily dropped his burdens as she did the same, feeling a little mystified. Rebecca had been a little different today after their earlier talk, more free somehow. He couldn't explain it, but he was definitely enjoying seeing it.

"Now, I want you to shut your eyes," she commanded mock sternly.

"What for?"

"It's part of the surprise. On your honor, keep them shut."

"Well, when you put it _that_ way…"

"C'mon Mikey, do it."

Michelangelo shut both eyes to satisfy her, and was reasonably startled when the young woman took both of his hands.

"There now." She giggled when he jumped. "I'm going to lead you. I'm starting to walk, so stay with me, and keep your eyes closed."

Michelangelo obeyed, once more happy that the cover of darkness shielded his blush.

_I've got to get a handle on this before we catch up with the guys. They'll see it coming from a mile off, and I'll never hear the end of it._

His feet moved in small shuffling motions at first, until he decided to trust that she really wasn't going to lead him off a cliff. Michelangelo felt the breath of a light breeze, and sighed contentedly with the slight coolness that it carried.

Mike sensed that they were out of the tree-line now, though what Rebecca was doing with him was still anyone's guess. She tugged his arms a bit more insistently to get him where she wanted to go, and then pulled up short. Rebecca let go of his hands, and re-directed his shoulders to face the right way.

"Okay Mike. Now you can open them."

Michelangelo eagerly blinked, and discovered that she'd brought him close to the end of the precipice, overlooking the dark valley below. He couldn't make out any distinguishing characteristics about the land itself, but what he _did _see absolutely took his breath away.

The valley was vibrantly lit up in certain sections, making it almost seem to be on fire with strange colored flames. They were steadily burning from so many different directions and sources, that it looked like the beginning of a natural disaster to the turtle. Some of the flames went out, only to be replaced by another wave from a different location.

"What the shell…" Michelangelo never took his eyes off the valley, but he didn't have to see Rebecca's expression to know that she was excited.

"Lighting bugs Mikey, but not like those tiny things we have in the States. These are their gigantic cousins, and they multiply quickly this time of year."

"So _that's_ why they call 'em fireflies," the turtle murmured, still engrossed in the scene below him. "That could be one of the coolest things I've ever seen."

Michelangelo lowered himself to the ground, and Rebecca settled down beside him.

"It makes me think of a song by Owl City. Have you ever heard of them?"

Michelangelo glanced in her direction and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. How does it go?"

Rebecca hesitated with a sharp breath, and then started to sing it for him.

"_You would not believe your eyes_

_If ten million fireflies_

_Lit up the world as I fell asleep_

_Cause they'd fill the open air_

_And leave teardrops everywhere_

_You'd think me rude_

_But I would just stand and stare._

_xxxx_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake_

_When I'm asleep_

_Cause everything is never as it seems._

_xxxx_

_Cause I'd get a thousand hugs_

_From ten thousand lightning bugs_

_As they tried to teach me how to dance_

_A foxtrot above my head_

_A sockhop beneath my bed_

_A disco ball is just hanging by a thread_

_xxxx_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake_

_When I'm asleep_

_Cause everything is never as it seems."_

Michelangelo couldn't help shaking his head again. "You're just full of surprises tonight. You've got a nice voice, and now you've truly inspired me. I think we need to have our own fire, in their honor of course."

"Of course," she said with a straight face.

They descended the precipice to return to their hidden niche, where a fire could be obscured to any unfriendly eyes, be they human or breast. Rebecca whittled a stick she'd found, with the intention of using it to roast some of the tubers they'd brought from their original location, but it made Michelangelo think of something else.

"We're really only missing one thing," he announced.

Her blue-green eyes flicked up from her project. "Just one?"

"No camp-out is complete without marshmallows. Donny and I usually go through two bags by ourselves."

Her nose wrinkled slightly in the firelight, and even that motion struck him.

_She's really got no clue how cute she is._

"I never really cared for those things," Rebecca replied.

"That's cause you never had _mine_. When we get back to civilization, you have to promise to try them. I've eaten the dried antelope, the bamboo, and everything in-between. You've gotta give a little."

She laughed at the turtle. "Okay Mikey, fair is fair."


	54. Air

Timothy was leaning on his side flipping through a book to pass the time, but his mind wasn't on the words. He was zoning out a little bit by the time the blue-masked turtle reappeared at the head of the cavern.

"Your daughter wants to talk to you," Leo informed him good-naturedly.

The man promptly dropped his "prop", and stretched slightly as he passed back outside for the second time that morning. Tim bumped the turtle's shoulder before taking the phone from him.

"I hope you warmed her up for me," Tim told him.

"I didn't mean to keep her so long Tim, it's kinda easy to lose track of time," Leonardo said sheepishly, and the man laughed.

"Who's complaining Leo?"

In all honesty, Tim loved seeing the usually unflappable turtle become somewhat uncoordinated when it came to dealing with Calley. There was something very honest about it, which reminded him more of a gawky teenager than a deadly ninja warrior. Not that he would ever be able to say that out loud.

Timothy pressed the phone to his ear, as Leonardo slipped back into the cavern.

"Hey sweetheart. How are things Stateside?"

"They're alright Dad. Jen and I kept the baby last night, so Kat and Karina could stay at the hospital. I've been hoping to hear from them about Brandon this morning, but I didn't want to bug them by calling myself. They _could_ actually be getting some rest."

"What was the last thing you heard?" Tim asked with concern.

"He's receiving a strong course of antibiotics to head off infection – I guess his blood count was pretty bad. They're doing everything they can, and he's surrounded by a lot of good doctors. I know he'd trade them all for Doc or Marc, but he's not complaining about anything physically related.

He asks about Mikey every time someone comes into the room that he hasn't seen in awhile. I think that's the hardest part for him to deal with, out of everything he went through. I'm pretty sure that's why the girls wanted to stay last night. He's been really down, almost depressed."

"It's hard to be that helpless Calley. We feel worthless here too, but at least we're on the same continent, and we have some hope of being able to act soon. He's trapped in a hospital in Manhattan, while his best buddy is God knows where. I'm glad he's got his sisters to support him. Everything went all right with Reina?"

"Yeah, she slept through most of the night, only woke up once wanting to eat. Luke's got to be missing her like crazy by now. I can't help feeling bad for him. At the same time though, I'm glad he's there, taking care of the guys."

"Speaking of 'guys', how are you and yours' doing?"

"Dad!"

"What? It's not like he's standing here, we're not talking in front of him. Can't a father ask a question?"

"We're good Dad," she relented. "You know we've been taking it slow because of all my…issues. But I feel like we're coming to another level now, and it feels really good."

She was so quiet for a few seconds, Tim nearly thought he dropped her.

"Calley? Are you still there?"

"Yeah Dad, I'm here." The very quality of her tone had changed. "It's weird to get emotional over this, when it's almost been a year. I still don't feel like this is my real life, like I'm going to wake up with Shirou, and find out that every bit of it was a dream. It feels almost too good to be true. I never thought I would escape him, let alone heroin. I never thought I'd be in _your_ life again."

"But you are Calley, by your own choosing. I think you still forget that. You've had a lot of help along the way, but you made the decision to get clean, and stay clean. None of us could make that for you. Well, I could have tried, but it wouldn't have lasted if you didn't want it too. I'm so proud of where you're at."

"I wouldn't say that it's time to be proud yet Dad, I'm still a work in progress."

"Are you trying to wait until you reach some level of perfection to feel any satisfaction in yourself Calley? Because you know that isn't going to happen. Don't set yourself up to fail, not when you've overcome so much. No one's perfect, not us, not Leo, and you won't be either. I know you feel like you have a lot to prove, but honey…It's okay to be happy. You don't have to punish yourself for the rest of your life, because you made some bad decisions. "

"I can't get Shirou's face completely out of my mind, and it's not just him, it…It's all of them. You have no idea how often I look over my shoulder when I'm walking down the street, half-expecting to see the Akiudo behind me."

"Shirou's dead, and the rest of them aren't supposed to be in New York anymore, not according to Greg's intelligence from Okinawa," Tim stumbled.

"It doesn't make a difference Dad. We don't know what happened with them, or the guys that got released. I don't think I'll ever be able to walk around like a normal person again, whether they're in the city, or thousands of miles away."

"It hasn't been that long Calley, you have to give yourself time."

"I'm tired of waking up in a panic, and feeling like I'm afraid of my own shadow! The only place I honestly feel safe is underground, and even then, I have reoccurring nightmares of leading the Akiudo directly to them! I can't win either way." Calley sniffed, and then sighed softly. "Sorry. We don't need to waste your cell-phone power on this. I didn't mean to get into all that."

"Calley, there are two more phones, and they charge by solar power, remember? You're not wasting my time in any event. I wish you'd get real about this stuff more often."

"Then what's the answer for me Dad? How do I let go of the fear that's been beaten into me? Is this just how it's going to be, me living the rest of my life cowering like some mouse in a corner?"

Timothy didn't want to affirm it out loud, but she'd already voiced so many of his fears concerning her, and the gang that had made an attempt on his _own _life. He considered it silently for a couple of seconds, and then plunged ahead.

"I'm scared too Calley, of losing you again. I wish I had some easy answer for you, but I don't. I don't think that this will haunt you forever, no. I believe that as time passes, things will gradually get better. As far as when that phase actually begins…I couldn't tell you."

When Tim hung up the phone, he felt so frustrated that he ended up sending a good-sized rock hurtling over the side of the ridge with tremendous force.

"Hey!" A distinct shout resounded below him. "Watch it up there, would ya? Turtle can't even walk around here without getting boulders thrown at him."

Tim was instantly abashed. "Sorry Raph, I didn't see you!"

The turtle trotted up the rest of the way, and shook his head at Tim. "Must this all end in violence?"

"Honest, I didn't know you were right there. I wasn't trying to use you for target practice or anything," Tim said glumly.

Raphael peered at him for a couple of seconds, his brow furrowing. "What's the matter man?"

"I don't even want to get into it," Tim grumbled a little darkly.

"Do you wanna get some air?" Raphael offered.

Tim shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. Where did _you_ go?"

"Nowhere." Raph said nonchalantly. "The warden has given me strict dimensions to stick to."

"Which warden is that, your older brother, or your doctor?" Tim had to ask.

Raphael rolled his eyes. "I can't wait to get back to the city, just so I can go where I want to again."

"You've really been sticking to their restrictions? They probably wouldn't even know if…" _Hang on, am I about to _encourage_ him to run off? Real smart Long._

"_I'd_know," the red-masked turtle answered as if he'd finished the sentence. "And I told Leo I wouldn't do it. Shoulda just kept my mouth shut."

"Darn that honesty," Tim cracked, and received a somewhat dirty look from Raphael. "Is there anything you _do_ like about this place?"

"I like it within reason, not living it 24/7 with no escape. Heading to the Adirondacks is one thing; we're still sleeping inside. This actual camping stuff is for the birds. It's been pretty hard to enjoy much of anything since we got here anyway, what with chasing after Marc, almost losing Brandon, seeing the other guys hurt, and now missing Mikey. It's been one bang-up trip, don't you think? Why did I think it could be as easy as just tracking Marcus down?"

"Because nothing's ever that easy?" Tim suggested.

"Brother, you can say that again. Did you talk to anyone in the States this morning?"

"Calley, for a little while, before you showed up. She didn't have any new word on Brandon yet."

The turtle growled faintly under his breath, as if he wished he had something to attack. "He's been in the hospital; they're supposed to be making him better!"

"Raph, you have to understand that it's impossible to prevent every infection. They're treating him with the best stuff they've got."

"I'm gonna have some strong words for Brandon before this is all over," Raphael said under his breath.

Tim cocked his head. "Why is it that the four of you are the only ones allowed to take a risk to defend someone else?"

"I don't think we're the only ones allowed to Tim, but I don't need someone else laying down their life for me period."

"Does that include your brothers?"

"You're darn right it does! Maybe Donny never told you, but we _had_ our words over his blood transfusion from Hell to keep my shell on earth last year."

"But you don't hold yourself to that same standard, right? You don't have to ask permission before trying to save someone," Tim challenged, and got another look from Raphael. "Maybe not talking is better."

The man fell silent, but Raphael waved the statement off. "Don't take me seriously Tim, I didn't mean you had to shut up."

The two of them had made it a couple yards away from the bottom of the hill, when Tim realized he was still carrying the cell-phone. He glanced down at the facing, and realized the power _was_ getting low.

"Shoot, this thing is dying. Donny said it wasn't a good idea to let drain completely. I need to run this back up the hill, do you mind waiting for me?" Tim asked.

"I can go with ya Tim, I don't mind."

"I don't need you to hold my hand," the man said impishly. "I'll be right back."

"I guess I can wait here, just move your tail then."

Timothy turned back to the path they'd all been using to get up and down the ridge. His mind was honestly still on the conversation he'd just had with Calley. Hearing her voice her fears out loud had made them feel all too real to him again. He made a mental note to pump Greg for information he'd received on the Akiudo when the timing was more convenient, not that knowing anything would make a difference. The gang had notorious methods for escaping the police, and had already nearly cost their family much more than Tim wanted to think about.

A smaller trail that wound back up the hill caught Tim's attention, as it had a couple of times in the past. It was a much narrower off-shoot of the main way, but the climb also looked less steep from that approach. Curiosity made him abandon the worn foot-path he was on, and he diverted through some thick brush to get a better look around on the other trail.

The man was forced to duck for several feet under a number of branches.

_Yeah, this is probably why we never used it stupid._

As Tim started to step over the next series of tree roots, a soft sound from close by startled him. He yanked at the broad leaves of low-lying plants to get them out of the way, and a sharp gasp escaped at the sight of the spotted coats of the young cats.

A mixture of fear and fascination took him – but common sense was also screaming to make himself scarce.

_I have to warn Raph though, the mother could be—_

Tim's hair stood on end, and he started to slowly turn. Before he made it a quarter of the way around, a sensation like a dozen weighted down knives suddenly plunging into his back. Timothy twisted furiously against the creature that was literally clawing its way over him. He only succeeded in losing his balance over a root, and plummeting to the earth.

The claws he hadn't been able to see were temporarily parted from his skin, and Timothy tried to scramble upright as quickly as he could. He'd made it a few inches before the animal returned in force, pouncing onto his chest with outstretched paws. The spotted head of the leopard darted toward him with a fierce growl, making a serious play for Timothy's throat.

The jaws closing in on him were like nothing he'd ever imagined seeing. He fought like mad to keep his neck out of the cat's reach, as a scream that didn't even sound like himself tore out of his mouth.


	55. Defending

The earth-shattering yell that came from out of the trees was unlike any sound that Raphael had ever heard. The absolute panic of it struck him first, followed by the realization that it sounded an awful lot like _Tim_. Without another thought, the red-masked turtle sprang into motion, lengthening his strides to cover the terrain faster.

He hit the main path and started sprinting as quickly as he could, anxious to catch some glimpse of where the man had gone. Raphael scanned left and right, heart-racing faster. He didn't see him.

"TIM!" Raphael stopped in the middle of the path, breathless from desperation. "C'mon Tim, where the _shell_ are you?"

From the landscape to his right, Raphael heard an animalistic sound that made his blood run cold, and he leaped off the path to follow it. He crashed directly through branches, bulling his way forward through greenery and wood. The turtle was so pumped on adrenaline by the time he reached the partial clearing, he had to slam on the brakes when he nearly ran into the creature.

Raphael only had a split second to be stunned by the sight of the leopard that was straddling Timothy, digging and clawing to reach the human's throat. Tim was doing his best to bury his head against the ground, warding off the cat's advances by jamming his arm toward the leopard's jaws, rather than letting it reach vital blood vessels.

Raphael lunged at the animal without anymore hesitation, his full weight barreling into the leapord's sinewy muscles like a battering ram. Turtle and cat rolled together, each battling for dominance. Raphael felt claws digging into his shell, and barely jerked his head out of the way of powerful jaws.

The red-masked turtle ducked his head further to keep it out of the leopard's range, even as he rapidly backpedaled into a tree to try and remove the cat entirely. He growled in frustration when the animal didn't budge, and threw his weight into the maneuver a second time.

Sharp teeth nipped at the back of his neck right before he made contact with the trunk, and he felt claws separating from his shell. Raphael whirled to face the creature head on, drawing both sai grimly as the cat leaped to its' feet. The turtle fell into a defensive crouch, waiting to see what the leopard's next move would be.

With a snarl it lunged toward him, and Raphael met the paw bearing down on him with a slicing motion from his sai. Rather than causing the animal to retreat, it only seemed to enrage her more. Claws came at him from two directions this time, and he found himself fighting to protect vulnerable areas.

When teeth came dangerously close, he had to divert all his power to deflecting the leopard's head, forced to drop his weapons so that he could use his hands against her. A clawed foot raked furiously across his face, while he was focused on holding the jaws at bay. The pain hardly registered as he managed to get one of his knees up, and drove a leg into the cat's body with all the force he possessed.

The blow sent the animal flying back a couple of yards, and Raphael had to check himself from jumping on it. He adjusted his posture instead, after scooping his weapons up from the ground. Raphael twirled both sai back into a ready position, watching the leopard like a hawk.

As the cat rose, Raphael was startled to see two smaller heads poke out of the brush behind her, and then rolled his eyes heavenward.

_Shell, that's just great_!

A low growl pulsed from the leopard's throat, and the cubs ducked back down as quickly as they'd appeared to begin with. Raphael retained his position, but took advantage of the lull to throw an anxious glance toward Tim. The man was still on the ground; he hadn't risen from where Raphael had found him. Tim was also openly trembling, which meant he had to be alive. That was the best Raphael could hope for at the moment.

The leopard was advancing once more, and it seemed a wild rage was burning in her golden eyes.

_Please don't make me kill you sweetheart_, Raphael had his first thought of empathy for the creature, and slowly responded to the cat's circling by mimicking her movement.

Without warning, the leopard exploded from the ground, so that her entire weight struck the turtle's chest. He was driven backwards a couple of steps, and then straight to the earth as he tried to avoid her claws. Now he was struggling with the notion of stabbing the creature outright, but still facing the distinct probability of being forced to take deadly action.

From the position she was in, he couldn't get his legs underneath her. Raphael fought to keep front paws from scratching his eyes out, even as her teeth snapped toward him again. The red-masked turtle twisted his upper body, so that his left shoulder took the brunt of her jaws. Even as her teeth bore down on him for the first time, the announcement of a loud gunshot seemed to startle her.

The shock rippled through Raphael too, but only for a moment. He took advantage of the opportunity the distraction provided to drive his right fist into the leopard's chin without an ounce of mercy. As it flopped backwards, he jerked both legs up to send her hurtling across the clearing.

He hadn't heard anyone else coming in the midst of the battle, but Kirkland was now at his side with a rifle, looking extremely determined. Raphael's gaze immediately snapped back toward Timothy. His older brother was gingerly lifting Tim's limp frame off the ground.

"Raph, are you all right?" Leonardo's voice carried anxiously.

The red-masked turtle wiped a hand across his cheek, as he realized it was bleeding for the first time, and then glanced at his shoulder where the leopard had briefly gotten a piece of him.

"I'm okay Leo, get him back to Doc, hurry up!"

The leopard was rising more slowly this time, and Kirkland inched forward with his rifle raised.

"Ryan,_ no_," Raphael said insistently. "She's protecting her kids, don't shoot her if you don't have to."

Kirkland didn't lower the weapon, or take his eyes off her. "Raphael, she had her teeth on you. The only reason I fired a warning shot instead of shooting her outright was because I was afraid I'd hit _you_! If she charges again, I'm not holding back."

Raphael took a couple of steps toward the leopard, trying to appear as large and menacing as possible. He bared his teeth with an intentionally animalistic snarl, and fixed the leopard with the most dangerous glare he could muster. "Go on, get outta here!"

The cat stared at him with what could only be described as a pensive look, and backed carefully away into the greenery, disappearing entirely from their sight a few seconds later. Raphael and Kirkland stood tensely, staying absolutely still as they waited to make sure that the thing was really gone.

When Raphael finally relaxed his stance, he was suddenly aware of how weak his legs felt. The turtle bent slightly over, as his chest heaved with serious relief. Raphael automatically jerked away from Kirkland's hand, scowling at the weapon that Ryan was still clutching.

"I had it under control. I could have killed her on my own, I just didn't want to," Raphael said defensively.

Ryan took a step backward, shouldering his gun. "I'm sure you could have. I'm sorry, I was trying to help, not interfere."

The irony of the man apologizing for trying to defend him wasn't lost on Raphael.

"Thanks for coming down," Raphael said less stiffly. "You heard Tim from up there too?"

"Yes, but then we couldn't _find_ him."

Raphael cast a look in the direction that Leonardo had gone, half afraid to see what the leopard had actually done to Tim.

Kirkland cleared his throat apprehensively. "We'd better go get you looked at too Raphael."

"I'm fine," the turtle said sharply, and had to fight once more to check himself. "Do you think it's coming back?"

"Can't say for certain, but she has your scent now, and I doubt she'll want to pick another fight. It did seem like that was only about her cubs. We'll have to be on our guard just in case, keep the wandering to a minimum for awhile."

"Awhile," Raphael repeated, gripping his shoulder with irritation. "How long do you expect we'll be stuck out here Ryan?"

"I've no idea, but I intend to see it through to the very end with you."

The turtle stopped walking, to fix him with an amber gaze. "You're really an okay guy, aren't you? You don't have to be here, you don't have anything to do with this."

"Miss Tompkins is still out there," Ryan said simply. "My job isn't complete."

Raphael held his breath as he walked into the cavern, very uncomfortable with the amount of blood that Timothy's clothes were covered in. The man looked incredibly shaky, though he seemed to be aware of his surroundings. Luke didn't appear to be going out of his mind, so that was a _small_ comfort to Raphael.

"What's going on Doc?" Raphael asked nervously.

Luke took one look at him, and snapped his fingers to get Don's attention, who was bent over a kit on the cavern floor. "Get your brother please," he told the purple-masked turtle, without answering Raphael.

Raphael side-stepped his younger brother, and darted toward Luke instead. "Can both of you lay off for a second, and tell me what's going on here?"

Tim's head turned with a painful grimace to face the red-masked turtle, and the man breathed sharply before he could talk. "Raph, you're all right?"

"Who, me? Just a couple of scratches, no big deal. Is Doc taking care of everything, are you…"

"The leopard didn't manage to sever a main artery," Luke said. "Looking at some deep lacerations in his back, few indentations on his neck, and more serious breaks in the left forearm."

"I can live without my arm, not without my neck, not without…I kept telling myself to protect my head, had to try…" Timothy was rambling, a practice he wasn't well known for.

Luke tugged his good arm to silence him. "Enough, enough Tim. You're not going to lose your arm either, though it might require some surgery. For now I'm getting the bleeding under control, and then you're going to Beni."

"Why? I'm fine here, you said I wasn't dying."

"That doesn't mean you don't need further attention."

Donatello tried drawing Raphael off slightly so that he could get a better look at him, but the red-masked turtle stayed honed in on the men's conversation.

"…Don't even try arguing about this Tim. If you recall, you don't have your spleen anymore, which puts you at a greater infection risk."

"Just another thing to thank the Akiudo for," Tim mumbled so that Raphael hardly heard him. "Well, I'm not going home."

"That will be up to the doctor in Beni."

"They can't force me to leave the country!"

"No, but I can come over there myself and escort your tail to a plane if I have to. Stop getting worked up Tim, it's not worth worrying over right this second. Can you just be glad you're alive? That could have ended very differently," Luke said firmly.

Donatello's persistent hand finally pulled Raphael to at least sit down. "C'mon Raph, you have to let me get started. You can't afford to lose the blood out here, we don't have a way to replace it."

Raphael sat down with a bump, and allowed his younger brother to probe his shoulder, before starting to sterilize the area thoroughly. When Donny cast a glance at the indents of the cat's claws on Raphael's face, he shook his head.

"This is going to sting like fury Raph."

"I'm a big turtle Donny, I can take it."

Raphael wasn't actually thinking too much about himself right then, still wrapped up in what was going on with Tim. As work progressed on both of them, Raphael noticed that Timothy seemed to be getting drastically drowsier. Luke caught his concerned look, and patted Raphael's shell.

"I gave him a shot of your guys' noraphim to help head off shock. He's in a pretty good place now, probably ready to get going," Luke explained, and then looked at Ryan. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not, I was expecting it," the man replied. "And I know exactly where I'm going now. I pulled some things together, I'm assuming they'll want to keep him. I planned on staying over too."

Luke sighed softly. "You're a good man Ryan."

"Glad you finally think so." Kirkland winked. "That only took a few days."

"Yeah well…you get why we're so protective of them," Luke answered.

"I do, but I can also see what an honor it is to be counted among you. These turtles, they're amazing. Raphael took that leopard down with his bare hands, and we're talking about a cat that can regularly bring down prey three _times _its' own weight. Then he let it go."

"It was defending—" Raphael started, and Ryan held up a hand to stop him.

"Hear what I'm saying. You have tremendous power, but you control it. It doesn't control you. That is a feat I haven't seen accomplished many times, not to that degree. I couldn't be more impressed by the way you handled yourself."

Raphael flashed him a half-grin. "That kinda thing had to practically be beaten into my skull. Trust me Ryan, me and control didn't always coexist very well."

"Give yourself some credit Raph," Leonardo spoke up quietly. "You did really well."

The red-masked turtle shrugged. "Wasn't much to think about. I just reacted."

Raphael got to his feet to walk them outside, and Tim's dazed glance focused somewhat once he was in the Jeep at the bottom of the ridge.

"Thanks Raph. You don't ever need permission to save my tail," Tim said softly.

Raphael only snorted in return.


	56. Optimistic

Rebecca took a much smaller drink from the flask than she actually wanted. They had a decent water supply at the moment, but she still felt it necessary to conserve it when they didn't know where the next source would be coming from. The steady rain of the day before had slowed them down a little, but hadn't stopped them entirely. It was mid-afternoon now, and they'd paused for the first extended break of the day.

Rebecca had a hard time repressing a chuckle at the sight of the orange-masked turtle, who was trying to keep a straight face of his own while he munched on some of the antelope "jerky".

"You never should have told me what it was," Michelangelo told her when she caught his eye.

"You're the one who kept asking," she reminded him.

"You could have lied to me," he quipped, and started re-wrapping the package. "I'm probably never gonna touch the _normal_ stuff again."

Rebecca smiled encouragingly. "You'll get some better food before you know it Mikey. This forest doesn't go on forever."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"It wouldn't be the first." She laughed.

"How'd you grow up on this stuff?"

Rebecca swatted at his shell. "This isn't the only thing the Congolese eat! Many of them grow their own crops, and still get some meat or fish occasionally. We could try fishing again, but we need to find a body of water first."

Rebecca saw a slightly concerned look pass through his eyes, but it only lasted for a couple of seconds.

"We've always been able to find something, right?" Mike said more brightly.

The young woman nodded. "We've only got a couple of hours before sunset, so we should probably take advantage of whatever we find next, set up camp nearby."

"What are you doing sitting here listening to me complain about the food then? Tell me to shut my mouth, and let's get going."

"You don't have to be completely happy about _everything_ Mike," Rebecca informed him, and felt like she could melt in the warmth of the smile he gave her.

_Why can't there be people like him? He's so easy to talk to, and relaxing to be around. He makes me forget myself, all those stupid little quirks I can't stand._

Rebecca pulled her pack back on, and reached for the sturdy staff that Michelangelo had salvaged that morning. As they started hiking again, Rebecca felt inclined to continue a conversation they'd been having earlier, concerning Michelangelo's main character from the fiction he'd been working on.

"You never explained Aidan's motivation to me Mike. Why does she bother staying inside the organization, when she knows the higher power's intentions are corrupt?"

"That's sorta the whole_ point _in staying Becky. If she's gonna take these bad guys down, it's easier to do it from the inside, than by leaving the group altogether."

"I guess that makes sense. How does the saying go? 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'?"

"That's the idea. Besides, if she went rogue, all that would get for her is a manhunt of 'Bourne Identity' proportions."

"True, but she wouldn't be at quite the same disadvantage as_ that _spy, not unless you found some way to work amnesia into the storyline."

Michelangelo made a face at that comment. "I'm not touching that. We already lived that story, I guarantee no one's going to want to read it. Not that they'll read it anyway."

"Why wouldn't they?"

Michelangelo's expression faltered, in a way she hadn't noticed before. "I dunno, my brothers probably would if I wanted 'em to, but it's not what they'd expect out of me."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"Well, we all have our roles, okay? Leo's the fearless leader, has been since we were kids. I'm not even sure he _had_ a childhood," Michelangelo paused to crack. "Raphy's the touchie powerhouse, Donny's the boy genius, and I'm 'Mr. Sunshine' and all around goofball. I don't mind the reputation, I am who I am."

"What does that have to do with what you're writing though?"

"It's just that it's a little dark. I mean, there's humor of course, but it's way more serious than they'd expect to come out of me."

"I'd look at that as a good thing." Rebecca suggested. "What's wrong with surprising them? They'd find out if you have a more serious side eventually."

The turtle chuckled at that. "It wouldn't be bad, it just comes back around to that same kind of pressure we talked about, y'know? I've been told more than once that I help set the mood underground."

"I can see how that would be true."

"So it's like, I have to try and stay 'up' all the time, and not give into negativity. It's not hard most of the time, I try to be honest with myself about all the great stuff we have, and how much worse off we could be. But sometimes, I still get this urge to run off and be by myself for awhile, the way Raph used to do on a weekly basis when we were younger. It's not even that I want to escape my brothers. They're my family, I _wanna_ be with them. But on those days when I don't feel up, and it's all I can do to put on a good face...that's when I want to run."

"Do you really think they expect you to be eternally optimistic?"

"Not always, no...But I still feel like it's my responsibility to stay positive. That's the role I fit in."

Rebecca stopped walking, and stared at the turtle for a long silent moment. "You're not defined by a role, or a personality characteristic. It may be one of your strengths, but that doesn't tell me who you _are_. Donny may be a genius, but that's not the reason he's such a good brother, is it? And if Raphael took a spoonful of sugar, and turned into the sweetest guy on the face of the earth, would it change how you feel about him deep down?"

"That's pretty hard to picture Becky." Michelangelo grinned.

"You've described each of these roles you play, to sound like they can sum all of you up in a couple simple words," Rebecca said slowly. "But the characteristics each of you contribute don't say enough about you personally. Leonardo may be your leader, but he's also your brother first and foremost, isn't he? And you may be the backbone that helps three more serious brothers not to drown in their own darkness, but that doesn't mean you're capable of being nothing but positive, or that you _should_ be. You ought to have the freedom to be just as honest and real about your emotions as any of the others."

The young woman hesitated for a second, as she studied the blue eyes that were looking back at her "You're far too expressive to hide what's actually going on in there anyway," she added with a grin.

An almost panicked expression flashed through his eyes, before he broke contact with her.

"Yeah, I've never been a good liar. That's why I have to rely so much on the element of surprise, instead of flat-out manipulation," Michelangelo said casually as he started walking again.

Michelangelo allowed them to carry on a few more steps in silence, before finding his voice again.

"I've never been good at faking it either Becky, but you'd be surprised how close I've come. All of us were kind of a mess those last few months with our Sensei, before he died. Nobody was really trying to hide it at that point, but after he was gone, there was this renewed sense of responsibility, pushing me to try and be normal. Donny took it so hard; he was basically destroyed. He blamed himself for awhile, even though it was our Master who wouldn't_ let _him try to fix his lungs. Dude wouldn't eat for nothing - it almost came to us holding him down," Mike said a little more lightly, and then his tone changed back.

"I could see it in his eyes, that he was going to have a really hard time recovering without help. The freedom wasn't there for me to...to grieve in front of everyone. I'm sure they knew that I still was, but if they didn't actually _see _it, it gave me some hope that they weren't effected by it."

Rebecca had been listening attentively, but still didn't say anything when he got quiet. The turtle was the one who ended up speaking yet again.

"It's made me feel like a hypocrite sometimes. I'm always on Donny's shell to get him to talk about stuff, and not hold it in. But in some ways, I hold back more junk than any of my brothers."

"All in the name of keeping them happy." Rebecca observed.

"I guess that's true."

"Mike, maybe I don't know them at all, but that's probably not what they want from you. You don't have to sacrifice your own pain, as if that will take theirs away. It won't. You'd be better off to let it out, considering you've got a safe place to do it."

Michelangelo's gaze flicked over to her. "Is that why you don't like to get into your own grief Becky? You don't feel safe?"

"I don't know if I've ever verbalized it that way, but it could be part of it. To be honest Mike, it's not all about the others around me. Some of those church people tried to be compassionate to me, I just didn't want it."

"Why?" Michelangelo asked suddenly. "I've been wondering that for days. Why don't you want compassion for anything you've been through?"

Rebecca folded her arms self-consciously across her chest. "I don't think I deserve it Mike."

"Are you kidding? Your family was killed in cold blood, practically in front of you. People get sympathy for a lot less than that."

"Comparatively speaking, what I've been through doesn't come close to what a lot of the people have to endure. Look at this country Mike. The natives are assailed on every side by fear, violence, sickness, and poverty. They have no way out of it. They were born here, they'll die here, and they'll suffer a great deal in-between.

I lost my family, but so many of them have lost much more. I have an alternative, an escape. I can go back to the United States, nurse my own wounds, and never think about this place again. But when I picture the people I grew up with, and think about what they're forced to face on a daily basis, it makes my problems shrink in my eyes. I don't want anyone else feeling sorry for me Mike, because _I_ don't want to feel sorry for me."

There was something indistinguishable about the way he looked at her, and then spontaneously reached an arm toward her.

"Your pain matters too Becky. Just because other people might have it worse off, it doesn't mean you're not allowed to hurt either."

Rebecca smiled faintly at the turtle, and wished she had the boldness of heart to relax completely in the embrace he seemed to be offering.

_There are times when he looks at me, and I swear there's something there like...As if he feels this too. Why does this have to be so complicated? Why can't it somehow be spelled out clearly in the heavens above, without me being forced to expose myself not knowing what he's thinking?_

Tears threatened, and Rebecca swiftly looked away.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," the orange-masked turtle said quietly. "It makes me feel like you don't want me near you. You can tell me to back off Becky, I promise I will."

Alarm rose in the back of her mind, as she wheeled back around rapidly to face him. "That's not it Mikey, I swear. I'm not good at expressing certain things, that's why I seem to get distant and shut down. It's not that I don't want you anywhere near, or that I don't like you touching me. I'm just not good at this," she repeated haltingly.

"You don't have to be," Michelangelo said calmly. "Don't be embarrassed by it. But you really can tell me to stop."

_I don't _want_ to tell you to stop, _Rebecca sighed inwardly.

Their "stop and go" march picked up steam again, in the midst of the silence that followed. The quiet hovered over them like a blanket, until the orange-masked turtle jerked suddenly, cocking his head to one side.

"What is it Mike?" Rebecca was instantly nervous.

"I thought I heard water," he answered.

He pointed, and Rebecca took a couple more steps, straining to listen. "Yeah...I hear it too now. Let's try to follow it."

The young woman stuck a little closer to the turtle than she had before, her mind feeling like it was starting to spin.

_What would happen if I just told him? Things could get very awkward here if this is all in my own head. I still feel like I'm trying to personalize all of his 'heroic' actions, to turn him into my own protector. That probably isn't how he sees it._

Rebecca leaned more heavily on her walking stick, as if searching for additional emotional support.

_I'll probably regret it if I don't say anything, but why does it have to be so hard? Oh, I know why. Because I'm profoundly screwed up._


	57. Close

*** They say good things come to those who wait. Guess you can tell me whether that's true or not, lol.**

* * *

When Michelangelo stirred the next morning, he was startled to find himself lying right next to Rebecca.

_Did I roll over too far in the middle of the night? What the shell?_

The woman was still asleep, so he carefully extricated himself into his normal spot, thanking the God above that she hadn't woken up first. The orange-masked turtle fell into a casual cross-legged position on his blanket, and discovered that there was already sweat trickling down his temple.

_It's the pits to wake _up_ this hot_, he thought ruefully._ I bet today's gonna be a scorcher._

Michelangelo would have been content to sit there, and watch Rebecca sleep for a few minutes longer. The way that the subtle lines in her face relaxed made her feel so peaceful and at ease. He almost hated to wake her up, and remind her that they still had several miles to travel up-country.

_But with this heat, the sooner we get a move on, the better. It's sure not going to get cooler as the day goes on._

Michelangelo hesitated, one hand hovering over her cheek, nearly touching it the way he had before, when he'd carried her unconscious from the river.

_She's not out of it now idiot - let's keep this real._

Michelangelo brushed her shoulder instead, and then sat back as she opened her eyes.

"Good morning," he greeted. "I'm sorry to bug you, but I thought we're probably want to start earlier. It's like a million degrees already."

"That could be a bit of an overstatement." She smiled, and then groaned softly as she stretched out her back. "But you're right, we'd better go before the heat of the day_ really _hits us."

Michelangelo and Rebecca had a pretty solid routine worked out by now, quickly adapting to not wasting much of the daylight or good weather when they could help it. The beating sun was absolutely relentless after they stepped outside the tree-canopy, hampering their progress somewhat. Still, neither of them had wanted to waste a perfectly good day sitting around, just because it was _hot_.

_I'm a ninja warrior, I've beaten worse things than this, _Michelangelo chided himself inwardly, as they stopped for a short breather under a lonely banyan tree.

Rebecca took a couple sips from the bottle that was looped over her shoulder, and shot a look at the turtle. "Get some water down while we're stopped for a second, will you?"

"I already had some."

"In the last two hours? No, you haven't. I'm not moving from this spot until you do."

Michelangelo uncapped a flask, and threw down a drink of his own. "Okay, happy now?"

"Mike, I don't know how much further we should push it. I know it's only afternoon, but this is ridiculous. It's not really that safe either. If we weren't so exposed..."

"It wouldn't be as bad," he finished. "If it's dangerous, then we can stop. Let's find some more trees, and hole back up again."

"You make us sound like some kind of critter." She giggled.

"No, _they_ have enough sense to stay out of this, we're the ones trying to run a marathon on the surface of the sun," Mike cracked in return.

"I accept your proposal, because I'm already cramping up a little, and that's not a good sign. Let's keep our eyes out for somewhere to stop, and be sure to drink more if you need it. I _mean_ it Mikey, you can't stand to get dehydrated anymore than me."

They followed the curve of the hill they'd been traversing for a few more minutes, before starting to descend back into the tree-line. The action actually required them to move backward from ground they'd already covered, but they were more interested in escaping the sun's rays than anything else.

Michelangelo was a little frustrated. Part of him wanted to keep going regardless; but he also knew it _wasn't_ safe, and he had Rebecca to think about too. If this pattern of temperatures held steady, they would have to consider the prospect of traveling after darkness had fallen to get relief. They sure couldn't stop moving altogether.

As Mike stepped carefully over some rocks in his path, something caught his peripheral vision from the right side. Mike glanced over, and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the cloud of mist that seemed to be hovering in the air.

"Becky!" he spoke up quickly. "Look. Is that what I think it is?"

Rebecca shoved a tangled curl out of one eye, and peered in the direction he was indicating. Her expression instantly mirrored what _he _was feeling. "Yeah, I think so Mike! C'mon, a little more back-tracking is in order."

"Quick question though. If we were already traveling backward to get to where we came from originally, and now we're turning around again, does that mean we're traveling forward, or back?"

Rebecca laughed. "It's too hot for any of that to make sense Mike."

The turtle grinned at her impishly, and they changed directions to cut across the land in a track that would allow them to follow the mist. Michelangelo had a brief amusing moment where he wondered if it was actually a mirage.

_But it isn't _that _hot, and Becky can see it too. I guess if I'm losing it, then we both are._

Both turtle and woman breathed a gigantic sigh of relief over the sight of the building spray, and the sound that accompanied it. The cascading falls over the rocks was one of the most welcome sights Michelangelo had experienced since coming here. They picked their way further down the steep incline through the trees, and dropped their gear with gratitude at the bottom of it.

"I say we camp_ right _here," Rebecca announced.

"I second that," Mike replied, and slipped out of his belt with a great flourish.

"What are you doing?"

"You don't want to waste this, do you?" The orange-masked turtle took off impetuously, taking a running leap to vault into the pool that collected under the falls.

Michelangelo surfaced with a small gasp, and waved encouragingly at the young woman standing on the edge "C'mon, I won't let you drown, remember?" the turtle called playfully.

"Uh...gimme a second."

"For what Becky?"

"Just hold on, I'll be right back!" The young woman reached for her bag, and disappeared out of his sight into brush.

Michelangelo shivered happily under the water, loving every second of it after the heat they'd been hiking in. When Rebecca reappeared, she'd stripped down to a tank-top, and a pair of shorts that the turtle didn't even realize she possessed.

_Why doesn't she ever wear those things? Her legs are awesome_. The thought made him feel a little abashed, but it was the truth.

Rebecca approached the water with a little more trepidation than he had, but then ended up jumping straight in anyway.

"Oh my word, it's cold!" she exclaimed at him, as curly hair flailed around her in the water like it had a life of it's own.

"I know. Isn't it great?" Michelangelo offered, kicking over to join her.

"At this moment, it's spectacular. We could just stay here for the next hour as far as I'm concerned. Maybe two." She laughed.

"I don't know, I'll probably want to eat eventually."

"You're thinking about food? That's something new and different," she teased lightly, as the turtle swam in a circle around her.

As Rebecca tried to follow his progress, Mike reached to take her arm.

"What are we doing?" Rebecca had to ask.

"Nothing, just try floating for awhile." He grinned.

Rebecca relaxed on the surface under his hand, and he allowed her to remain peaceful that way for a few seconds. Then he settled into a position behind her, took her by both shoulders, and began trailing her around the center of the pool. She laughed loudly as he pulled her along for a few minutes, and he loved the new found freedom that seemed to resound with it.

Michelangelo kept going in circles until he started getting a little dizzy himself, and stopped short with a bump so that she ran into his plastron.

"Hey, you gotta warn someone when you're going to slam on the brakes," Rebecca called over her shoulder, and then turned around to face him. "Do you want to get a closer look?" she suggested, motioning towards the falls themselves.

"Yeah, we can do that."

"Just don't let me drown," she couldn't resist adding.

They swam toward the more disturbed portion, and paused by the rocks that were clustered in the area. As Michelangelo tested a foot on one underwater, he immediately realized how slick they were.

"Be careful, okay?" he advised her. "The rocks are sort of-"

Rebecca slipped before he could finish, and both his arms shot out to catch her. She laughed freely once more as he held onto her, and Mike forced an awkward laugh of his own. His brain was telling him to let go of her, but his arms were not obeying the direct order. As Rebecca's laughter died, the expression on her face was replaced by something else entirely.

_Shell, I know I've seen that look before, with the other girls and..._

The thought trailed off as his heart suddenly beat faster.

_Is this it? Does it mean she wants it too?_

The young woman was making no attempt to get out of his arms, and didn't look uncomfortable being there. Rebecca actually inched a little closer, and the curious hand he was having trouble containing grazed her jaw before he could stop it. Still, she wasn't trying to back away from it.

The turtle cleared his throat nervously, as he realized that he was about to reveal all of his cards in one fell swoop. "Becky, do you want..."

He didn't actually have time to finish the question, before she nodded emphatically. Michelangelo reacted before he had any more time to think about it, and she was thankfully already moving to meet him. A thousand goose bumps that had nothing to do with cold water struck him as they kissed that first time, and he had to pause to remind himself to breathe.

Rebecca's fingers stroked his chin, guiding him back toward her a second time. In Mike's head the music swelled and everything around them got a little fuzzy, at the indescribable sensation the woman was giving him. He was the one who always had something to say, but right now, he was completely speechless.

"I thought that would never happen," Rebecca said after a couple beats of silence, sounding a little breathless herself.

With another shiver that was unrelated to the water, Michelangelo felt his own tongue loosening a little. "Oh yeah, well, I've only wanted to do that for about eight days...give or take."

The giggle that escaped her was innocence in its' purest form. "What _took_ you so long?"

"I dunno. What took _you_ so long?" he returned. "I'm all for women making the first move, it's the 21st century and all that."

Rebecca wrapped both arms around his neck, and initiated another kiss more lingering than the others. "Is that the type of move you were hoping for?"

Mike's arms tightened around her waist, as he struggled to contain the shudder that came with it. "Yeah Beck, that works well for me."


	58. Getting Somewhere

Brandon shifted uncomfortably, more out of irritation than actual pain. He was impatient to vacate the hospital that was feeling more like a prison cell than somewhere to heal. Brandon was now feeling better physically than he had since that stupid night in the Congo, and it only made him more eager to escape the ties that were binding him to this place.

He had no allies in his sisters - they didn't even want to hear about his eagerness to leave. Kat's reluctance was particularly disappointing to Brandon, as the woman's fast talking could have served him well. Still, he wasn't completely helpless. There was one other person who not only knew what he was going through, but might have some pull of his own.

The individual had promised to come by around this time, so Brandon found himself glued to the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes as they ticked by. Brandon's shoulders slumped by the time his visitor was a couple of minutes late, but resigned himself to waiting a bit longer before trying to call him. A knock on the door perked Brandon up considerably.

"That had better be you," he huffed slightly, but broke into grin when Marcus opened the door. "It's about time. You had me wondering if you'd abandoned me."

"I never let a patient down...or a friend," Marcus corrected himself, and shut the door tightly behind him. "I'm sorry I'm late - I had to go a couple of places to find it."

Marcus held out a small paper bag to Brandon, and the man snatched it from him.

"You're forgiven," Brandon quipped, as Marcus produced a spoon for him. "I can't believe everyone doesn't carry Spumoni year round. Who decided that was a seasonal thing anyway?"

"I don't know Bran, but you better get to work before it melts, and I'll tell you about my own meeting today."

"I'm all ears."

"They'd like to keep you a couple more days, and in all fairness, it's the right thing as far as the infection is concerned. It grants more time for you to run the full course of the IV antibiotic."

"That's your professional opinion too?" he asked unhappily.

"As a doctor, yeah, I'd have to agree with them."

"You're not my friend anymore."

Marcus chuckled. "On the other hand, I _did_ get your contraband behind enemy lines."

"There is that I guess," Brandon allowed. "So _my_ sentence isn't up, but what about the guys? Has anyone talked to them recently? Getting them on the phone is next to impossible."

"That's because of where they're staying Brandon. They don't get a signal in the cave, so they have to be _outside _for a call to even get through on their end. It doesn't even ring otherwise."

"What good is that? Couldn't someone just camp outside in case someone calls?"

"Do you recall how often it rains?"

"You'd probably remember better than I would."

Marcus looked down at the floor with an imperceptible expression, and sighed softly.

"Sounds like this is getting to you as much as it is me," Brandon suggested.

"It's getting to all of us, but it's more complicated in my case."

"What are you talking about Marc?"

Marcus shook his head, and didn't quite meet his friend's gaze. "I started all of this. Don't think I can forget that."

"Marc, that's ridiculous. You can't go off blaming yourself; you didn't ask for any of it! Are we supposed to discourage everyone on earth from taking humanitarian action, just because something bad could happen? We couldn't do that, the world _needs_ people to go. You didn't go into this blindly either, you took all the precautions, and you traveled with a group."

"We_ separated _from the group."

"Not entirely Marc. You had two armed guards with you, you just didn't know that one of them had gone rogue."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "It's nice to know he ended up coming through for Rebecca, but it sure would have been great if Nanji could have controlled his stupid urges to begin with. No matter how we look at it, I'm still going to feel ultimately responsible for what all of you went through, _are_ going through. I'm extremely grateful that you made it."

"You have a big part to play in that you know."

"How do you get to that conclusion Bran? I wasn't anywhere near you."

"You're the one who turned Doc onto that QuikClot stuff. They're saying I wouldn't have lasted that long in the rainforest without it; I'd have been dead before we got to Beni. Seriously man, don't torture yourself with this. It never should have happened to begin with. It wasn't your fault. Rather than feeling guilty that we all came after you, why don't you just be happy that we like you enough to have gone through with it?"

Marcus couldn't repress a smile at that. "I have no doubt that I'll feel better about everything once they're all home safe."

"For sure," Brandon stated emphatically. "Have you heard anything lately from Greg's end of things?"

Marcus shook his head. "I've called him once a day, trying not to hound him. I know he's working hard, and feeling very frustrated."

Brandon dropped the spoon he'd been using to shovel ice cream, and rolled his own eyes. "At least he gets to do something."

"Hey, you got to take two bullets. Isn't that enough for one trip?"

"You make it sound like it was a _good_ thing."

"You got hurt helping someone else," Marcus said morosely. "I don't think there's a better honor than that, especially when it's concerning one of the guys, who's more known for putting his own life on the line."

"I don't think I did anything extraordinary Marc. I had a gun - he didn't. Getting him out of the way was the logical solution."

"I'm sure you had a lot time to think it over."

"Oh, tons. You can do all kinds of thinking in a millisecond."

"That's what I thought." Marcus grinned, and then patted his shoulder. "Hang in there a couple more days Brandon, and we'll get you home."

"You're not going already, are you? You haven't even told me about Tim."

"Oh, that'd be nice, wouldn't it? He's not a happy camper right now either. Luke wants him to stay at the clinic in Beni, it has about as close to a sterile environment as they can achieve out there. The leopard didn't cause any permanent damage, but he's still in pain. All things considered, he's lucky Raph got there when he did."

"Everyone's scattered," Brandon mused. "It's a weird feeling. Before we left the States, I had this talk with Mikey about independence, and doing stuff on my own. Things have shifted so quickly. I can't even imagine living back on the West Coast now, cut off from my sisters, and not knowing anything about them. Or, I just don't want to."

After a couple seconds of silence, Brandon dropped the pint container he'd been clutching onto the bed stand, and fell back on one of his pillows. "I miss the guys. I'm not used to being this attached to someone," he said ironically.

"It's addicting, isn't it?" Marcus laughed. "You get a taste, and then you never stop craving it. I know what you mean about the independence thing though. I was flying practically solo for awhile too, and wondering why my _old_ friend Luke couldn't settle down into a normal routine at the hospital."

Brandon laughed. "That was before you knew about the guys of course."

"It explained all of his behavior oddities in one fell swoop."

"Were you the first one in their history that actually infiltrated the group?"

"I wouldn't put it that way."

"You broke into Luke's apartment."

"How is it _breaking _in when you have a key?"

"I heard your first meeting with Raph went a little differently than mine."

"He was dealing with the slight disadvantage of a head injury at the time. How was_ I _supposed to know what Luke was actually tied up in?"

"Don't think you could have predicted that one Marc."

"Exactly. Hence, I had to research."

Brandon cracked a smile. "I think we're all glad you're the nosy type."

"I prefer to be called curious."

"You _do_ know that curiosity killed the cat."

"With as mad as Luke was, I'm lucky _he _let me live."

Brandon was enjoying the first real laughter he'd experienced in days, already feeling better for it inside.

_Things will work out, they always do somehow. And staying two more days in this place is sure better than being dead._

* * *

Donatello ducked out into the mid-morning sunlight, grateful that the day had dawned a little cooler than the last. Things stayed moderately comfortable in the cave, but it wasn't much fun being constantly cooped up in the dark either. He looked down at the facing on the phone he was carrying, watching for the bars that would indicate that he'd acquired a signal. Once he had retained service, the symbol flashed to relay that he had missed calls, and Donatello groaned softly.

_I hate this stupid phone situation._

The purple-masked turtle scrolled through the call-log, surprised by the number of times that Greg had tried to reach them. With baited breath, Donatello rapidly called him back.

"I'm sorry we missed you Heff, what's going on? I'm guessing you have to have some kind of news."

"That you Donny? You caught me at the perfect time; I'm about twenty minutes away from taking off."

"Taking _off_? Greg, does that mean you've got the device?"

The man laughed at Donatello's eagerness, his own relief coming out with it. "I have it Don. Everything got smoother on this end, the minute I got myself a _real _interpreter. He's like an angel sent from God, with all the devious connections you still need on Earth. He helped me nail down some of that official's cronies; the guy had already been back in Mbandaka for like two days. How pathetic is that?"

"I hope you gave him a good tip."

"Yeah, I hooked my interpreter up big time."

"Can you get it turned on me for Greg? I just want some idea of how Mike's vitals are operating. I believe he's alive, but some proof would still be nice."

"Uh...yeah, about that. I already tried to turn it on, and the thing isn't responding to me. I think a couple of those idiots tried to take it apart when they couldn't get anything out of it, might have done something stupid."

An angry curse escaped the turtle's mouth, and Greg gasped.

"You've been hanging around me too much Donny. Look, I opened it up too, and I don't see any damage that looks detrimental. They could have just crossed a wire the wrong way, and knowing you, you'll get it operational."

Donatello sighed noisily, and nearly felt like the phone could crush in his grip. "If all the pieces are still intact, it shouldn't be a problem. It just means another stupid delay," he said darkly. After a beat of silence, he forced himself to loosen his grip. "I'm sorry Heff, you've been a huge help in this; we couldn't have gotten it back without you."

"I'm only sorry that it took so long," Greg replied. "I don't want to let you go, but I probably need to. There are still some instrument checks to finish on this end, so I'll be ready to get into the air."

"Feel free to break the speed of sound Heff."

"What do you think Lola is, a fighter jet?"

"Who the shell is Lola?"

"I was just trying that name out on the Gulfstream. You don't like it?"

"Mmm...I don't know Greg. We'd have to put it to a vote obviously, but I don't think I'm feeling it."

"What about you and Gertrude?" Greg demanded.

"I never call Gertie by her full name Heff."

"What kind of name is that for a computer?"

"I'm hanging up now Greg. Get back to work on '_Lola_', would you?"

"It sounds stupid when you say it that way."

"That ought to tell you something."

"I thought you were hanging up Donny."

"I am. I have to go tell the others you're coming. You _will_ be here today, won't you?"

"Of course. I'll fly straight through, it's not that far."

"Good. Hurry up, and we can put 'Lola' to a group discussion when you get here. At least, you guys can talk about it. I have a feeling I'm going to be pretty busy."


	59. Impact

It had been an extremely productive day of traveling for Mike and Rebecca. The load that Mike was used to carrying felt almost as light as air; he hardly even noticed it . Mike had imagined that the first kiss might be the ultimate thrill, that nothing else would ever be able to top it. But even when Rebecca wasn't actively touching him, she retained the same spell over him that had already been cast. Just a glance from her direction was enough to trigger fresh goose bumps. Even the _thought_ of being close to her made him feel like he needed to rub his arms.

_Shell, this feels like it has to be some kinda weird dream. If I wake up to find out I've been in a coma this whole time, I'm gonna be really disappointed._

Rebecca was a little bit ahead of him, now shading her eyes against the afternoon sun that was still traveling its' circuit across the sky.

_Then again, the sun's not actually moving, right? We are, _he thought randomly, at the same time that Rebecca laughed out loud.

"Hey Mikey, I didn't lose us!"

"That's a relief Becky, I was really worried I wouldn't keep track of myself."

"No, I mean...we've found the river again!" she proclaimed, apparently missing the fact that he was teasing her. "We should be able to follow its track easier now, come and see!"

Michelangelo stepped up to the higher point to join her, his breath catching at the sight of the Congo River running through the valley beneath them. He actually didn't see the river at first, as he was caught up in taking in everything else. There were clouds hovering over mountains in the distance, creating a misting effect that looked like it had to be raining, though it was dry where he and Rebecca stood watching.

Mike dropped into a crouch as he shaded a hand from the sun that was still beating down onthem, and the feeling of being in a dream-like state seemed more pronounced than before. When he didn't speak, Rebecca lightly grasped his arm.

"This is a good thing Mike, it means we're going the right way. We just have to keep plugging away, and we'll get there."

"I know, it's not..." Michelangelo faltered for a few seconds, raising his gaze to take in as much of the expanse of the sky as he could get. "Why does everything feel so much bigger here? I swear, the sky is nowhere near this size in New York City."

Rebecca laughed. "I think you're just getting to _see_ more of it Mikey. There's less to obstruct the view."

The orange-masked turtle shook his head in amazement. "You don't realize how small you really are, until you see something like this. I mean, we're just like tiny ants in the middle of everything. It almost makes me wonder..."

When he didn't finish, Rebecca tugged on him again. "What Mike?"

"In everything my brothers and I do, we're hoping to make some kind of difference in the world around us," Mike said slowly. "But when you stop and consider how huge the planet is, it makes me wonder what we're actually accomplishing. I guess it's still a noble idea and all, but a hundred years from now, nobody's going to remember the 'phantoms' were ever in New York City at all."

Rebecca's grip traveled to his hand. "I don't think that's true Mike. Maybe you won't be remembered for winning a war, or starting a world-wide revolution, but the lives you've touched have to extend far outside even your own circle of friends. How many people do you imagine you've saved, in the course of these last few years alone?"

"We haven't kept track, it's not the easiest thing to do." Mike shrugged.

"When it comes down to it, people are what matters Mike, and by affecting their lives, you're changing dozens of others that are _related_ to that individual. You have absolutely no idea of the far-reaching impact you've extended over the course of hundreds of lives, who are all connected to thousands more.

It might feel small when you're 'just' breaking up a mugging in Central Park, but it's sure significant to the Mom who can feed her kids, _because_ you stood up for her. Don't make the mistake of trying to measure your own worth, based on everything going on around us. You'll never know how many people you've touched; there are probably more than you can fathom. I've only known you for a few days, but...Mike, I couldn't put you out of my mind if I wanted to."

Michelangelo glanced her direction, and squeezed her hand firmly in return. "That could get annoying you know."

Rebecca firmly tapped his shell with her free hand. "You're not going to irritate me Mike."

"You haven't been cooped up with me for days unending," he pointed out with a cheeky smile.

"What some people call 'irritating', is what I would call 'entertaining'." She grinned. "I haven't had much opportunity to laugh in the last few years Mike. I've enjoyed being reintroduced to the concept."

The turtle's fingers playfully snapped shut on hers. "You don't think I could start to grate on you?"

"Where do you get these ideas? It's all part of your overall charm."

Michelangelo had to chuckle. "I'm sure I'm the perfect vision of Prince Charming."

Rebecca twisted to face him better, and he noticed that the glinting light of the sun made her eyes look more blue than normal.

"You're nothing like what I've pictured Mike, and I think that's what makes you so perfect."

"You're giving me a lot to live up to here Becky."

"Don't you get what I'm saying? It isn't about you changing to become something else. You're already more than I ever expected to get from anyone. You really don't know how great you are."

"I don't think I'm alone in that."

"That could be true," she acknowledged. "But I want to make it clear to you from the starting point, if this should be called that. When I look at you, I don't see all of our differences. I know I did when we first met days ago, it's an adjustment to meet someone as unique as you. But when I look at you now, I don't see some vision of a muscular turtle that feels more like fantasy than reality. I see someone who epitomizes joy, and all of your loyalty and empathy. I see a guy who can't be daunted by all the stumbling blocks that oppose you. You have to have the most unbreakable spirit of anyone I've ever met. All those things, along with your undying sense of humor, are what's captured me."

* * *

They spent a couple more hours of daylight hiking down into the valley, and resumed their trek with the Congo River as their companion. Rebecca couldn't help staring at the turbulent water time and time again.

_I can't believe we made it through it, or rather he _got _us through it._

Rebecca was having a hard time keeping the smile off her face, particularly when those blue eyes would meet hers with a little residual shyness. There was a new spring in her own step, that made her feel as if she hadn't been walking for days already. There was such a sense of life brimming up from within, she actually had to resist the urge to skip like a little girl. She had a hard time not laughing out loud at the very thought of it.

_I feel like a school girl, only I never was one._

The sun was setting behind their backs, and their pace became a little more leisurely as they discussed where they could possibly stop for the night.

"We should probably push away from the river a bit, don't you think?" Michelangelo suggested. "Just in case there're any natives who decide to fish in the middle of the night."

"No one in their right mind tries that Mike," she told him. "It would be the very definition of getting eaten alive. Most of the fishermen set up unmanned nets, and come back to check them the next day."

"No wonder they don't catch much," Mike said impishly.

Rebecca shook a finger at him. "It's really not as easy in these waters as it sounds. In any case, we'd be better off staying concealed like we have been."

Rebecca adjusted her bandana, and then yanked it off entirely. "It feels like we're getting somewhere Mikey, but I wish I knew how far we still have to go."

"Maybe it's better that we don't know Becky."

"You still believe that ignorance is bliss, don't you Mike?" she teased him.

"And you're bound and determined not to let me have any," he said in return, and reached over rest one arm over her shoulder.

Rebecca's smile returned, and she leaned harder against his arm, so that he ended up embracing her completely. His hand gave a small tug of her pony-tail, and she flipped her hair at him.

"Two can play at that game," she warned him, making a grab for the tails of his mask.

The turtle dodged her hand, backing directly into one of the trees they'd been approaching. Rebecca pursued him doggedly, laughing as Mike stayed just out of her reach, but close enough to give her hope of catching him.

"Is this what they call playing hard to get?" she asked.

"Nah," he replied, instantly stopping so hard that she ran into him.

"What did I say about those brakes? You're going to have to get them checked at this rate."

"I'll set up appointment when we get home." The turtle grinned.

His expression remained unchanged, but something about the way he rubbed his forehead made Rebecca give him a second look.

"Is everything okay there?" It wasn't the first time Rebecca had noticed his hand go to that spot in the last three hours.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said immediately. "My head's just bothering me some, maybe a little too much sun. We don't usually see this much of it," he added jokingly.

"Why didn't you say anything? I've got ibuprofen and acetaminophen in my kit."

"Uh...we don't really take that kind of thing Beck. It probably wouldn't kill me, but the human stuff has never agreed with us very well. Donny could explain it a lot better than I can, but some of it really has the power to knock us into next week. It's better for me not to risk it."

"Oh. Well, let's get you some rest and food then, hopefully it will work itself out."

"Yeah, no big deal," he agreed, glancing around the small open patch they'd happened upon seconds ago. "This looks as good as anywhere, don't you think?"

Rebecca nodded her head, and allowed her oversized pack to slide to the ground. As she started sifting through it, Michelangelo was already occupying himself with unpacking the tent.

"I'll start getting some water hot Mikey, some tea could be good for you," she suggested.

"That does sound good Becky. Hard to imagine craving something hot in this atmosphere, isn't it? I think I'm actually more thirsty than I am hungry."

"You're not hungry?" She frowned.

"I didn't say that," Mike returned with a grunt, as he rolled out the material of their tent. "Lemme get this thing set up, and I'll continue talking your ear off while you get a fire going."


	60. Midnight Oil

Donatello's frustration was boiling over. What would have been such an easy task in his Lab at home, was turning into a several hour project out here in the middle of nowhere.

'_Dust is the enemy of electronics'...more like the deadly assassin. I swear I'm going to lose my mind before this is over._

The sun was long set, and he was contending with insects that were being attracted to his lantern, all for the sake of both replacing the needed components, and trying to keep the device as clean as possible at the same time. Protecting the chips and wiring from stray particles was crucial, but it was also the closest thing to impossible in this environment. The dust was worse _inside_ the cavern, forcing him to work out in the middle of insect central.

Donatello had actually considered going down the hill to work in the Jeep, but decided against putting the distance between him and the others. He had enough pieces in his kit to replace whatever portions were burned out, but the installation was taking stupidly longer than it should have.

The purple-masked turtle glanced up from the project when he felt someone's gaze, and looked over his shoulder to see Luke.

"Do you know what time it is?" the man asked evenly.

"Nope. Don't care either."

Luke ambled out of the cavern a little stiffly, and held out a flask toward him. "Try it Donny."

Donatello took an experimental sip, and then nodded his head. "Not bad Doc. Thanks."

"You can't run on empty. How close do you think you are?"

"I'd be a lot closer if I could keep this random junk _out _of the components," Donatello grumbled. "Why do people have to be so stupid Doc? 'I don't know what this does, so I think I'll take it apart'. Idiots."

"You can get this done Donny. Be sure to take a breather if you need it."

"I'll breathe when it turns on."

"I know you can hold your breath a long time, but that might be pushing it."

Donatello gave the man a look, and Luke chuckled.

"All right. I'll leave you alone so you can concentrate."

"No, a break is probably the best thing for how frustrated I am this second. That and caffeine."

"What about a friend?" Luke offered.

Donatello relaxed into a thin smile. "I won't refuse that either." The turtle shifted into a more comfortable position, and stretched out both legs slowly on either side of him. "I didn't think I could miss a desk chair this much."

"How's the leg? You're not messing up your stitches, are you?"

"Well, I can't see them Doc, but I don't feel like they're pulling. We're going to have to consider what we'll do about Tim. I'd like to be optimistic, and hope that I can have this thing running before daylight. Meaning, it'd be nice to leave in the morning." Donatello emphasized.

Luke shook his head. "Tim might hate me for it, but I think he's better off in Beni. I don't want to abandon him there, but I also don't want him getting an infection."

"No, that wouldn't help anything. I guess he'll just have to deal with it."

Luke didn't say anything for a few moments, as he traced a finger over the scanner Donatello had resting on the tarp.

"I keep waiting for the broken record to order me to rest." Donatello finally said.

"I suppose that proves how badly I want to find your younger brother Don. It's been too long. I know he's strong enough to take it, but he shouldn't have to. I just want to get his shell home."

"We will, but not if I don't get back to work. Not much of a break, but I don't want to waste a lot of time."

"Okay," Luke said softly. "Yell if you need something."

The man padded back into their cave, as Donatello slapped a monstrous insect that was circling his light.

"Just a few minutes of peace, do you guys think you could let me have that?" he muttered toward the bugs, and flopped back down in a cross-legged position to resume splicing a replacement wire.

Donatello intentionally didn't watch the hour, for the sake of not irritating himself further. The moon was the only thing marking the passage of time, casting its' own faint light over the ridge he was perched upon. He rubbed his temples a little wearily, and set the scanner back down.

Donatello crossed his arms for a couple of seconds, and glanced at the dark forest beneath him. Heavy eyes struggled to differentiate one tree from another, as he sensed himself zoning out a bit. The turtle blinked rapidly to revive himself, and swatted at yet another insect trying to land on his other arm.

"Go eat something else," he mumbled, and set somewhat bleary eyes back on his machine.

The new wire was intact, but there were still a few more left to check. He'd been taking the time to try turning on the machine in between replacing different pieces. Donatello sent a mighty breath through the components, attempting to lift the pollen that was trying to take up residence inside the device. He left the back off while he turned it over, and applied his finger to the appropriate pad, while simultaneously hitting the power button with another.

The spark of electricity that emitted from the open panel nearly startled him out of his wits, and he narrowly kept a grip on the machine at all. Donny shook the surprising pain from the mild shock out of his left hand, cursing inwardly before realizing that the device was _on_. With a gasp he tested bringing up his software, laughing out loud when the program responded properly.

His heart nearly beat out of his chest in the time it took to screw the back panel into place, and turn the scanner back over in his hands. Donatello's fingers flew over the keys, all traces of former sleepiness completely gone. It was here - everything he needed seemed to still be intact. With the location software launched, he eagerly honed in on Michelangelo's homing device.

Donatello could hardly remain seated on the ground, as the wait for it to load seemed to take much longer than normal. When Michelangelo's vital information finally appeared in front of him, he made no attempt to silence his triumphant cry.

"YES!"

As the purple-masked turtle rapidly digested information, he heard the sound of others moving inside the cavern. Both of his brothers were hovering on the edge of the entrance only seconds later.

"What's going on Genius? You okay out here?" Raphael barely stifled a yawn.

Donatello leaped to his feet as if he'd had ten hours of sleep. "We've got him! He's alive you guys!"

"What, like anyone was doubting that?" Raphael scoffed. "You knew it all along."

"We've got a fix on his coordinates?" Leonardo cut in swiftly.

"That's what I'm working on Fearless," Donatello replied, without taking his eyes off the screen.

His brown eyes stayed silently focused on the screen for longer than either of his brothers seemed to want to wait.

"_C'mon_ Genius, don't mess with our minds. Have you got him nailed down or not?" Raphael demanded.

"Yes, the satellite coordinates are transmitting properly, I was just trying to determine how far away he is. We're going to need a map, and we need Kirkland."

* * *

Katherine had been tossing and turning for about an hour, feeling the giant void that was their Master bedroom. Karina had offered to sleep in the same room with her more than once, but Kat had been reluctant to agree.

_I'm the big sister. Her husband is over there, just like mine. Somebody has to try and keep it together on this side of things._

Katherine rose from bed, weary from days of fighting the restlessness in her soul.

_If I'm going to be awake anyway, I might as well be doing something, rather than just laying here._

Katherine shoved her arms through robe, and lingered a few seconds longer at the back of the door. She fingered Luke's robe as well, and leaned closer on an impulse to catch the faintest whiff of the scent she missed having beside her in bed.

_Geesh woman, you act like he's been gone for a year. Think about all those women whose husbands are deployed in other countries. Pull yourself together here, _she chided inwardly.

Katherine slipped out of the room into the darkened hallway, and noticed a flickering light coming from the living area. Someone else was up. Katherine quietly walked past the air mattress on the opposite side of the room where Calley was crashed, and then joined her younger sister who was sitting near the TV.

Karina was huddled under a blanket so that her legs were practically invisible. When Katherine started for the chair beside her, she noticed Reina in Karina's arms, and then the remnants of the bottle sitting on the coffee table.

"Are you exposing my child to late night TV?" Kat asked mock sternly.

"It's TV Land," Karina answered lightly.

"I didn't hear Reina crying, did she wake you?"

"No, I was already up, and she didn't have to cry for very long. I pretty much grabbed her right away. I thought she'd make for good company, but as you can see, it didn't last very long," Karina said jokingly. "Do you want to take her?"

"No, she looks comfortable enough with you Kari. So why were you awake?"

"Do I have to answer that question?"

Katherine laughed softly. "No. Not necessary I guess. Have you heard anything out of Brandon? I knew it would be a challenge to keep him nailed down after they released him."

"Nope, and I have been checking on him. I thought about moving Reina's monitor in there," Karina added with a smile.

"Kinda feels like we need to, doesn't it? Then again, where does he have to go?"

"Nowhere, the same as the rest of us," Karina replied, carefully shifting the sleeping bundle in her arms. "She should probably go back to her own bed though."

Kat got to her feet, and held out her arms to Karina. "Here, I'll take her Aunt Kari."

Katherine slipped by Calley silently one more time, and headed back down the hall to Reina's nursery. After laying the baby on her back, Katherine very softly brushed a lock of blond hair from the baby's face. She leaned over the crib to kiss Reina's forehead, and then backed out into the hall. While she was walking toward the living area, she suddenly heard the sound of her cell-phone going off from her bedroom.

The woman spun on heel and dashed back to the room, scooping her phone off the bedside table just as it stopped ringing.

"Darn it!" she proclaimed under her breath, and hit the button to immediately dial the number back. "Hello? Luke? Guys?" she said questioningly, the moment the phone connected on the other side.

Her husband's excited tone greeted her instantly. "Donny's got the machine up! Mike's alive, and we're getting our plan of action together."

Katherine nearly collapsed on the bed from relief.


	61. Pushing

***I _could_ have tied everything up in a nice little bow right about now, but um...I didn't. I promise a good ending, though not an easy time getting there.**

* * *

Waking up with a worse headache than he went to sleep with was a very irritating experience for Michelangelo. He lay silent for a few seconds without opening his eyes, and then rolled over slightly to face Rebecca. The turtle was surprised not to see her, and immediately sat up further. He hadn't even heard her get up. Michelangelo's back protested strongly as he rose, and he tried to carefully stretch it out.

_All this sleepin' on the ground must be getting to me._

Michelangelo wasn't used to anything phasing the most protected part of his body; it was an extremely odd sensation to deal with. He straightened up slowly, and then went outside to find Rebecca already tending to a small fire.

"Good morning," she said at once. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Um...sorta."

The young woman gave him a pointed glance. "That's not even a _little_ convincing Mikey. I've got some tea almost ready, and you should probably eat something too."

Michelangelo didn't want to think about food right then. Even the idea of antelope jerky made his stomach turn.

"Just some fruit maybe. I'm not feeling much," he told her.

The glance she gave him this time was traced with concern. "Maybe we should hold off from moving. You don't _look_ normal Mike, and you're certainly not eating normally. You hardly touched anything last night."

"I don't want us to lose all our steam either," Mike replied. "It'd be nice to see how far we can get, but uh...That doesn't look very encouraging."

The turtle motioned to the cracks of sky above them, intentionally diverting attention from his own issues. Rebecca glanced up, and then nodded.

"I think we're going to be in for something intense. The pressure definitely feels like it's dropping. Some of the weather patterns we've seen so far are mild compared to how stormy it _can_ get. I'm no meteorologist, but I've seen this phenomena a few times. I can't predict when, but we're _going_ to get hit today, hard. I have a feeling we'd be better off with a more substantial shelter."

Michelangelo flashed her a half smile. "You got anything in mind? Something the big bad wolf can't blow over?"

Rebecca chuckled lightly. "We're not that far from the foothills of those mountains we looked at yesterday Mike. Common sense dictates there should be somewhere we could hole up. I think it's our best option; rather than being caught out in the open...but it's probably still a couple hours hike away." Anxiety strongly tinged the end of her statement.

"Beck, look...I'm gonna eat, get some of that tea down, and I'll be fine. I've got plenty of energy," he said, forcing the sound of confidence into his voice.

Rebecca's gaze looked like it was trying to cut right through him. It stayed fixed for several seconds, before she sighed heavily. "Mike, I don't like it," she said finally. "I think you need rest, but we could find ourselves in very bad conditions. I guess we're going to have to move, but you've got to be honest with me too. Don't make me pull you back. I know you're incredibly strong, but no one is impervious to everything. Promise me you'll speak up."

Michelangelo nodded firmly. "Yeah, I can do that Becky. No problem."

The orange-masked turtle fashioned his own sort of walking stick before they packed up again, hoping it would offer additional support for the stiffness he was experiencing in his back. Michelangelo felt the unusual weariness in his joints right from the point that they set off, with absolutely no precursor. He wanted to be honest with Rebecca, but at the same time, he didn't want her to be worrying over him all day.

At home, he was probably the first one out of all the guys to relax if he needed to, enjoying the extra time to catch up on a video game, and getting the guys to wait on _him_for a change. A smile crossed his face at the thought of his brothers various reactions to being sick. While the others ranged somewhere between denial, irritation, and outright obstinacy, Mike had always secretly enjoyed the part of being taken care of, especially as far as his red-masked brother was concerned. Raphael's tough facade seemed to falter somewhat when dealing with someone else's pain. Mike could get Raph to do things for him when he was hurt or sick, that he wouldn't dream of asking otherwise.

Now his family was nowhere in sight, and Mike didn't feel the freedom to relax. The heat was physically wearing on him more today than before, and he could feel himself slowing down. Rebecca matched his pace without saying anything, though Mike could tell she really wanted to.

The orange-masked turtle tried to focus on putting one leg in front of the other, and not to think about how tired he was. They were making ground, it was just taking a lot longer than it should have because of_ him_. He hated the feeling of dragging Becky down, but he also couldn't escape the dizziness that was coming and going now, forcing him to lean more heavily on his walking stick. The duffle bag that had felt so light the day before was now dragging him down.

Through the mist they were wandering in, Mike couldn't tell how far they'd come, or figure out how long they'd been walking. He was aware that Rebecca had been gradually inching closer, hovering with an air of concern she wasn't quite able to conceal. He could tell she was holding back from offering help without being asked for it.

A renewed wave of nausea made Michelangelo stop in his tracks with a jolt, and pull away from Rebecca's light grasp on his arm. He dropped his load without any thought for where it landed, and bounded two steps into the low-lying brush, barely making it there before he threw up. The turtle's arms trembled as he supported himself, and then started to force his way back to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. His legs didn't fully cooperate in straightening out.

"Mike, it's okay," she reassured him. "You don't have to get up right away. Please take a minute, take_ twenty _minutes."

The young woman offered him the water bottle from her shoulder, and he took one good drink from it. As he hesitated in that awkward position on the ground, the first of the raindrops splashed down.

"Aw _shell,_" Michelangelo groaned, the closest thing to a complaint that he'd voiced out loud all day. "We've gotta go Becky."

He put more effort into lifting his weight, surprised by how shaky his legs felt. The turtle pushed through it anyway, and stumbled when they wouldn't support him.

"Mikey, _no_," Rebecca said firmly when he tried again. "You have to stop, you've got to rest. If you collapse, we're finished. I can't carry you."

"We're gonna get stuck out here," he said hoarsely. "You should keep going."

The young woman came to kneel at his level. "I don't think there's much further to go Mike, so here's what we'll do. You're going to sit here, and try to get some strength back. I'm going to go forward, and see about scouting us some shelter, anything that would pass as a roof over our heads. I'll find something as close by as I can, and I'll come back for you. But you have to swear to me that you'll stay here."

Michelangelo nodded unhappily, hating the prospect of her leaving his sight. Rebecca looked around for the best refuge the immediate woods could offer, and settled on a broad-leafed tree that would provide a little more protection from the elements for him than anything else in sight.

"Try to get up one more time Mike, and I'll help you."

The orange-masked turtle's cheeks colored with shame as she wrapped both arms under his, and kept him steadier on his feet. With shuffling steps she partially supported him to the tree, and allowed him to settle underneath. The woman pressed a water bottle in his hand, and grazed his cheek with her lips softly.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

* * *

Rebecca winced at the sound of the thunder, which resounded so strongly across the valley that it almost felt like it shook the ground beneath her feet. But then again, it could have been her imagination. She was so worked up over what could be wrong with Michelangelo; fear for her own safety wasn't really registering yet. The rate at which the wind was picking up forced her to increase her pace along with it.

The rain hardly mattered, and the gathering storm clouds that had turned day into night so quickly felt insignificant, except for the impact the conditions would have on the turtle.

_I have to find something fast, I _have_ to._

The way the land ahead had been stripped of trees suggested that they were near a former mining operation. The rate of the re-growth of vegetation indicated that it had been abandoned some time ago.

_Where there's mining, there has to be some kind of entrance into the mountain._

Rebecca curved around the base of the rock, deliberately searching for the opening she expected to find. Her heart was racing as fast as she wished her _feet _could. She started to consider the possibility that she'd have to ascend higher, but quickly threw the idea out. It wasn't a tremendous issue for her, but the thought of Michelangelo struggling to climb even a short way up a mountain was ludicrous.

_Darn it, why did _he _have to come down with something? It would be so much simpler if it'd been me. I don't know if I'm strong enough to get both of us through this._

Rebecca angrily swiped soaking wet hair out of her eyes, and stubbornly braced her shoulders forward.

_It's not about you right now. You've gotta do what you've gotta do. Suck it up, and make it work._

As she searched, Rebecca kept an intermittent eye on the compass in her hand. She needed to keep a strong sense of her direction, so she would be able to find her way back with Mike. As the wind increased again, she had to duck her head to protect herself, and kept one hand firmly on the mountain she was trailing beside. Only rock met her fingers as she felt her way along. Rock, rock, and more...wood?

Rebecca stopped short, and focused on the oddity of the material in front of her. Her fingers traced the rough-hewn planks, and then pulled at them, testing. They shifted slightly, but didn't feel like they were ready to give out any time soon. Rebecca searched the wood for a weakness, expecting that the elements had to have taken a toll on them. She gave another experimental tug of the plank in the center, before making the decision to step it up.

Taking a sharp breath, she attacked the cross-board with a mighty kick, that almost made her lose her balance completely. She righted herself with irritation, and made a second attempt. The wood splintered, but didn't give entirely. Rebecca focused for another blow, and released a loud cry with this one, exhaling sharply when the plank fractured.

Rebecca spent a few minutes breaking through the rest of the way, and turned on the flashlight for a wary look inside the space.

_It doesn't look like a mine, at least, not in the traditional sense. It's too...smooth._

The tunnel didn't feel completely natural. It appeared to have been man-made, but probably not with the dynamite that mining operation was so reliant upon. She extended the flashlight to see if she could reach the end of it, but the beam faded into darkness.

_There's no telling how far this thing travels under the mountain, but it's not really relevant this second._

This would work; she couldn't ask for anything more. Rebecca dropped her backpack inside out of the rain, and then raced back outside into the worsening storm. As she worked her way back around the mountain, fear for Michelangelo clawed the back of her mind, and put her in danger of losing her focus.

Rebecca clenched her jaw fiercely, ordering her body to continue functioning the way that she needed it to. Her surroundings flew by her, at a speed she wasn't aware she was capable of keeping for that long. The young woman hit the tree-line with a fury remaining in her steps, and found herself ducking or shoving past all the branches that tugged at her clothes, trying to slow her down. The ache in her right leg was the only thing she felt besides the drive to keep going, and she easily pushed the pain aside.

Rebecca took another glance of her compass to confirm the direction she was traveling. Then she started keeping a sharper eye out for the flash of color, one of her bandanas she'd left behind, tied to a tree to help mark her goal. The hand holding the flashlight was shaking by the time she reached the clearing again.

"Mike?" she called loudly, as she shoved her way through the last of the brush.

The young woman didn't get an answer as she finished breaking through, so she called out again.

Rebecca swept the beam of light across the clearing, and a gasp tore from her throat when she found the orange-masked turtle lying on the forest floor. Rebecca flew to his side and tugged at his shoulder.

"_No_. Please don't do this to me."

Michelangelo was completely unresponsive to her touch.


	62. Strong Enough

Rebecca carefully rolled the orange-masked turtle back onto his shell, stifling a sob as she checked to see if he was breathing. She laid a hand on top of his chest, and bent in closer to be certain of what she felt. Rebecca detected his breathing easily enough, but he still didn't stir. Michelangelo was soaked to the bone the same way she was, but she'd expected his skin to feel _colder_ than it did. The plastron beneath her hand felt inexplicably warm, and it increased her fear.

Great tears rose at her inability to do anything for him, other than try to shield him from the rain with her own body. She could do that the rest of the day if she had to, but it probably wouldn't make him any better. Minutes passed with mounting hopelessness, and she remained quivering at the turtle's side. The young woman was trying to steel her nerves for his sake, but her resolve was starting to falter sharply.

A sound that reminded her very much of gasping for air left his chest. Rebecca bent further over him as the turtle's eyes slid open, unfocused in the beam of her flashlight.

"Mikey! C'mon, talk to me."

"B-Becky." His body convulsed with the single word.

"Yes, I'm right here. Can you look at me?"

Blue eyes shifted, seemed to be trying to follow the sound of her voice. "I got sick," the turtle mumbled. "And then I couldn't...get..."

Rebecca took a firm hold of his chin, realizing she needed to make the most of what opportunity they had left. "Mike, I found someplace dry and safe. Do you think there's_ any _possibility that you can walk?"

"Dunno," Mike said honestly. "But I'll try."

Rebecca had to see if he could even sit up first. The young woman supported his shell from behind into a sitting position. The turtle dug both hands into the earth like he was clinging to it for dear life, and jerked as if he'd been assailed by a sudden pain. "Beck, I'm gonna-"

Michelangelo bent precariously to the side as he got violently sick again. Tears stung Rebecca's eyes amidst the accompanying raindrops. She didn't want to push him further, but felt like there was no other option, except to try. The turtle shifted the arm he was propping himself up on, and swallowed deeply.

"Okay. Help me please?" he asked, in a way that she almost couldn't stand to listen to.

"Wait, hold on a second," Rebecca commanded, first going to grab the duffle bag that housed the rest of their supplies. She shouldered the weight of it, and then turned to approach Michelangelo from behind. "I'm going to get my arms under you again, and I'll lift as much as I can."

The first effort barely raised him a few inches, as his legs didn't seem to cooperate.

"I'm _trying_." He grunted with the exertion.

"It's okay Mike, rest for a minute."

Mike's shell made it difficult to hold onto him in that fashion, and forced Rebecca to consider another way.

_Oh please God, we just have to get back to the mountain. Please help us do this._

"C'mon," Mike suggested through chattering teeth. "Again."

Rebecca circled around front where she could get a better grip under his arms, without being hindered by his shell. Michelangelo provided a little lift this time, enough momentum to help get off the ground.

"Good job Mike." She was careful not to let go of him.

"And he's up," he said weakly.

"One step at a time Mike," Rebecca said evenly. "We're going to take this slowly. Lean on me, okay? I can handle a good portion of your weight. Don't be shy."

The small grin he gave her was slightly encouraging. "You're just looking for any excuse to get close to me."

"You caught me Mikey. Now try one step with me, and let's see how it works out."

Mike's upper body swayed with the motion, but he stayed on his feet. "Great. How many more?"

"A few," she admitted. "We can stop and rest every couple of steps if we need to."

"And we'll be walking for the rest of the year," Mike offered.

"Whatever gets us there," she insisted. "You can do anything, so I know you can do this," she added with another surge of life. "You're a ninja, and you're not giving up on me. Keep going, and we can rest plenty along the way."

Rebecca was being much firmer with him than she wanted to be, but sensed that he needed that push.

Something about escaping the tree-line with the turtle made the lightning feel even more dangerous, the way it was completely exposed to the naked eye. Rebecca jumped as it struck a few yards out from them, and felt the turtle trying to adjust under her supportive arm. Michelangelo straightened upright a little further.

"We'll make it Becky," Mike told her. "It's gonna be okay. If I have to crawl, I'll get there."

"Let's try keeping you on your feet, okay?" Rebecca said encouragingly, grateful to hear Mike refusing to accept defeat.

Their trek slowed the further they went, and she felt his body slipping more heavily against hers'. His shivering had become regular. The turtle spoke up a couple of times, but more often than not, she was the one who had to pull him back. They were still tracing the side of the mountain when his knees buckled entirely, and Mike slumped forward.

Rebecca managed to stop him from falling on his face, but couldn't keep him from hitting the ground. Michelangelo closed his eyes in what appeared to be frustration.

"So _dizzy_, and I'm thirsty Becky."

Rebecca wrestled with the cord her bottle was attached to, removing it so he could get some down.

"How'd it get so cold here?" he murmured, sounding less aware of where "here" actually was.

"Mikey? Stay with me, okay?" She patted his cheek insistently.

"What?" was his only reply, and his eyes still didn't open.

Rebecca could see he wasn't going to be able to get up again. Her mind raced as she considered something she'd seen done before, but never tried herself. The turtle weighed several pounds more than her, but there were still strategies for a situation like this one.

"Mike, I'm going to try something," Rebecca wavered slightly, nervous over the possibility of dropping him. "Let's get you turned around so you're facing me, okay?"

He didn't outwardly acknowledge her, but attempted to shift on the earth. Rebecca reached for a muscular arm, and tugged it over her shoulder. As Rebecca crouched over the ground, she pulled the turtle up partially from his prone position, so that he was draped over her back.

_Thrust with your legs and hips_, she mentally commanded herself as she lifted, very aware of the injury she could cause herself by doing this the wrong way.

Rebecca understood the mechanics of the maneuver, and had to trust that she was actually capable of pulling it off. She left the duffle bag where she'd dropped it, and inched her way forward with bent legs, supporting Mike's full weight.

_You never know what you can do until you have to._

Rebecca's muscles protested, but didn't give out as she started moving more deliberately. The wind and rain whipped directly into her face, and she had no way to shield herself from it. Rebecca hardly noticed; she was so driven to just get them to their destination. Uttering silent prayers she kept going, watching for the opening.

Rebecca tried rousing Mike's attention a couple of times, but got no response from him. Fear gave her another surge of adrenaline, and pushed her forward with more strength than she'd imagined she possessed. Her breath was heaving by the time she neared the entrance. Rebecca could feel the strain in every fiber of her being, but the pure elation of _getting_ there carried her the last few feet.

Trembling from the exertion, Rebecca lowered straight to the ground, and got the turtle down as carefully as possible.

"Wow," was the only syllable she was capable of uttering.

After putting him down, she ran back out into the storm one more time to retrieve the other bag, and lugged it back into the cave. Michelangelo hadn't stirred an inch from where she'd laid him. She covered the turtle as tightly as possible with the blanket from her backpack, and then hurried to change out of the soaking wet clothes she'd been in for hours.

_Definitely need a fire. Maybe some of those planks would do the trick._

Rebecca fingered the wood that had been closing off the entrance.

_It's still somewhat damp, but this will probably work._

Coaxing the flames took a little longer than usual, but she patiently allowed it to build into a steadier blaze. The loudest crack of thunder she'd heard yet sounded from close by, and she jerked before she could catch herself. Rebecca released a sharp breath to steady her heart rate, and glanced back over at Michelangelo.

Rebecca frowned as she tested his cheek with the back of her hand. Where rain had dried, she could make out sweat now glistening across the surface of his skin.

_He's got to be so hot. I have to do something for him, but what can I-_

Rebecca's thought abruptly broke off when Mike groaned softly. She pressed one of her soaked bandanas against his forehead, and his eyes flickered open again.

"Beck?"

"Hey," she whispered. "We made it."

Mike started to raise his head, but it instantly lolled weakly to the side. "How...how did I get here?"

He seemed to be mesmerized by the shadows dancing on the wall from the flickering flames.

"Together, most of the way," she replied, taking up his hand that was flailing around on the floor, as if searching for something.

His grip wasn't strong, but it still grasped her fingers in return. "You found me," he mumbled sleepily.

Rebecca drew his hand up towards her chest, and kissed it. A smile traced his features for half a beat, before his stomach jerked through what seemed to be a painful spasm. The turtle moaned quietly, his breath slackening for a moment as the pain appeared to linger.

"Mikey..." Rebecca gripped his hand more tightly. "It's going to be all right. You should have some more water."

"Don't have much," he pointed out.

"I'm collecting run-off from the rain, and if I need to, I'll go back to the river. Don't you worry about where it comes from, just get better. What would Donny do if he was here?"

"He'd stuff meds in my veins," Michelangelo replied.

"I wish I had some of those," she said ruefully.

"Well, you're pretty. That counts for something too."

Rebecca nearly chuckled, but stopped short when the turtle trembled violently.

"Shell...I'm so cold."

Rebecca winced. If the chills were coming on that strongly, it meant his temperature was still rising. She let go of his hand, and set it back down lightly at his side.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"I don't know. Something. Let me grab the other blanket."

"You take it, I'm fine."

"Yeah, you're_ fine _Mikey." _I have to find a way to make him more comfortable. This ground is awful too._

On an impulse, Rebecca reached for the duffle bag, and drew out the tent. She partially unrolled it, and then started folding it into a better shape to suit him. His eyes were closed by the time she returned, but he stirred when she touched his arm.

"Mikey? I want to get something under you. The ground is cold too, this should help some."

"What do you want me to do? I can try to-"

"No, don't try to get up. Just roll with me." Rebecca tugged under his arms again, drawing him over on top of the material with a little difficulty. Then she tucked both blankets around him again, and returned to her feet.

Rebecca got behind the turtle to prop him up, and offered the bottle again. MIchelangelo didn't respond at first, and she patted his cheek once more. "Mike. Mikey, c'mon. You have to drink."

His body shook in her grasp, but he raised his chin to meet it this time. "I can't see you," he mumbled.

"I'm behind you."

"I don't have eyes back there."

She laid the turtle back down, and one of his arms stretched toward her.

"Will you stay here?" he whispered.

"You silly turtle, I'm not going anywhere."


	63. Gifts

*** Ah Splinter...there have been several times over the course of the last couple of stories that I regretted his death in Sacrifice. Letting go of a character, especially one so important to the canon, is never an easy thing. But occasionally, there come opportunities to provide another glimpse into the relationships that existed. I found yet another way to infuse Splinter back into my fiction, but that dear readers, is for a special Oneshot down the road. ;)**

* * *

Donatello resisted the urge to check the scanner again, but the pit in his stomach still felt like it was getting bigger. They'd been traveling almost non-stop since that morning. There had been an air of excitement when they first departed the cavern, but over the course of the day, everyone got quieter. Luke was the one who'd first discovered the faltering of Michelangelo's vitals that afternoon, and carefully relayed it to the rest of the group.

The purple-masked turtle had hardly taken his hand off the machine since; Luke couldn't have pried it away from him with a crow-bar. It was an uncomfortably reminiscent feeling to watch his younger brother struggle that way, and be incapable of doing anything about it. Donatello could feel the mounting tension in every nerve, but couldn't bring himself to release any of it.

The two Jeeps were currently at a stand-still, providing a few minutes for the men who'd been doing all the driving to get short breather. It was raining moderately, and Donatello was hunched over slightly to protect the scanner. The rest of the wetness around him didn't really register in the back of his mind.

"Donny." Leonardo's voice softly cut through his fog. "Get up. You shouldn't be on the ground like that; you're gonna get too cold."

Donatello braced one hand against the earth to help push himself up, only then noticing how far he'd removed himself from the others. Leonardo had a light grip on his shell. Donatello couldn't tell if he was trying to steady him or reassure him, but felt so discouraged that he sagged against his brother regardless.

Leonardo tapped the back of his head. "We're getting there Don. We'll find him, okay?"

"I'm so sick of being on the wrong side of things. I feel like I can't be in the right place to save my life."

"You know that's not the case. We're going to keep plugging away Donny, but you have to do something else too. You have to allow yourself the opportunity to rest, so that we can move faster if we need to."

Donatello's gaze finally flicked over to him. "We're pretty hampered by the trails we have to travel on Leo. How are we supposed to go faster?"

There was an interesting gleam in his older brother's eye. "There's no rule that says we're limited to the Jeeps bro. We can get into that later, if we absolutely have to."

* * *

The orange-masked turtle had been hovering in a dream-like state for so long, he wasn't sure what was real. Over the course of the night he'd alternated between freezing and burning up, and groggily wished that his body could choose one, and stick with it. The cramping in his abdomen had increased in frequency, making it feel like his stomach was literally tying up in knots. Something wet grazed his forehead, and he opened his eyes to see Rebecca again.

"What time is it?" he murmured, as if knowing would make some kind of difference.

"I don't know. Late," she returned, her fingers guiding his chin back to a bottle again.

Michelangelo was thirsty, but the mere effort of keeping his head up that long was impossible.

"Please try," Rebecca urged him.

Mike obliged, and then shifted a little under the weight of the blankets.

"It's crushing me," he told her, and she pulled to loosen them.

He felt her delicate hands searching, feeling his chest. She yanked one blanket off entirely, giving his skin the opportunity to breathe.

"Mike, I'll be right back."

"Becky...?"

"Shh, relax. I'll just be a minute."

Michelangelo tried to track her with his eyes, but she passed out of his line of sight, and he couldn't find it in him to raise his head enough to follow her. He heard her feet shuffle across the cavern floor and fade to silence, before she returned seconds later. Rebecca was carrying something - he couldn't tell what, just that it appeared to be dripping wet.

"What's that?" he slurred slightly, as she draped the material over his chest.

The coolness provided a little relief for the burning, and made him feel like he could breathe a bit easier.

"I left my sweatshirt outside. You have to go with what you've got," she explained.

There was a light quality to her voice, but he wasn't too far gone to see the concern in her posture.

"You should sleep," Rebecca encouraged him. "If you wake up cold, let me know. We'll get this right eventually."

"Beck, what's wrong with me? Do you know?"

The young woman didn't answer right away. "Not for certain, no. But I have a hard time believing anything could keep you down for very long Mikey. You're going to get through this, and I'll be right here with you until you do."

"What happens after?"

"After what?"

"After it's over. You _won't_ be here?"

"No Mike, that's not what I..." Rebecca trailed off, as she realized he was trying to play with her. "Go back to sleep."

"Where's your hand?" he asked through closed eyelids.

A smile curved on his lips when Rebecca cupped his chin.

"Sleep," she ordered.

* * *

_There was something so familiar, so comfortable about the scent that surrounded him. It was one of those things you don't forget, even if you hadn't smelled it in a long time. Memories, impressions, and vivid images were all wrapped up in the lingering scent of incense that evoked such a powerful sense of his father. It was so strong in that moment, that he actually imagined he would be able to see him with his waking eyes, if he could open them._

_In his mind's eye he was young again, stretched out pitifully on the mat of their dojo, cringing as though suffering from some tragic injury. The rat's knowing hands had already traveled the length of his leg, gentle pressure determining what Michelangelo already knew. He wasn't actually hurt at all, he was just humiliated, and didn't want to face anyone else yet._

_Mike was the one who'd insisted on going a third and fourth round with Raphael, even though the turtle had already beaten him soundly. His red-masked brother hadn't even delivered the blow for the finishing point this time, seeming embarrassed for the youngest turtle's lack of coordination that day._

_Michelangelo was resigned to being the smallest of the brothers, but he couldn't stand feeling like he was that much weaker. His Sensei hadn't said anything for awhile. He merely gazed at him with those dark eyes that seemed to speak without words. The ageless element had baffled the young turtle for a long time. The rat spoke and taught them as if he'd been around forever, but his own body was still honed and agile, easily able to best all four turtles at once when they dared to attempt a spar with him._

_His father's diminutive size only make Mike feel more ashamed of himself. He already weighed more than his Sensei, making the orange-masked turtle technically _not_ the smallest member of the family. Yet he still remained the weakest._

_Michelangelo sighed, a sound so forlorn in its' intensity that Splinter would _have_ to ask what was wrong with him._

_"You fought hard today my son," the rat proclaimed instead. "You have no reason for shame."_

_"But Sensei, what's the point?" Michelangelo sighed once more. "If I can't be as strong, if I'm not as good as them, why am I trying this hard?"_

_"You are not competing with your brothers Michelangelo. These exercises are for training. They are not an opportunity to prove who is better than everyone else."_

_Michelangelo made a scoffing sound, and winced at the look he received from his Master. "Sorry Sensei. It's just obvious that I'll never be as good as they are. Even Donny, I know he's been going easy on me. It isn't fair. I'm working hard too!"_

_"My son, all of you develop at different rates, none of you are exactly the same. And your strengths and weaknesses differ as well. You possess strengths of your own that your brothers find hard to conquer, just as you struggle to conquer theirs."_

_"I don't see what any of mine are." Michelangelo nearly pouted. _

_Splinter gave him a knowing smile, and patted the turtle's leg. "Get up Michelangelo. I want to show you something."_

_The orange-masked turtle leaped upright, as the rat fell into a fighting stance._

_"This is supposed to make me feel better?" Mike asked._

_"Focus my son." Splinter was little sharp, just enough to make the turtle take a proper stance._

_"Hai Sensei." Michelangelo bowed, but then swallowed nervously as his Master circled him._

_"Michelangelo, I have watched you learn your brothers' styles, and even attempt to use the knowledge against them. But you have stronger weapons of your _own_. There is a strength that you gain in time through training and persistence, and then there are the gifts you're born with. The greatest warrior knows how to utilize both, mixing training with natural talent._

_Do not try to mimic me Michelangelo. Some of our steps may be the same, but it is how you use your own strengths that will you make you unassailable."_

_Without another word, Splinter flew at him. He used a couple of different combinations, one right after another. Michelangelo couldn't have matched him blow for blow if he tried, so he focused on merely staying out of grasp, occasionally blocking when a strike came too close. For the most part he avoided his Master, spinning just out of reach several times. He was breathing a little heavily by the time the rat ceased the attack and inclined his head to the young turtle._

_"Very good my son."_

_"But Master, I didn't _do_ anything!"_

_"You stayed out of reach Michelangelo. You protected yourself more than you did during that entire session with Raphael."_

_"But you don't win by avoiding the other guy," Mike countered, and didn't miss the twinkle in Splinter's eye._

_"You are so concerned with proving that you _can_ win, you're not realizing where one of your greatest gifts lies."_

_"Running away is a gift?"_

_"Speed Michelangelo. You don't realize what a powerful ally that is yet. When used correctly, it can shut down many of the advantages your brothers have over you. You have to trust in what you possess, and not be so impatient to prove yourself to them. You are not weak Michelangelo. Your own physical strength will increase as you grow older and continue training. But if you can harness the gifting inside you as well, learning to incorporate the speed you already have, you will be a formidable warrior indeed."_

_

* * *

_Rebecca stroked a too-hot cheek again, before re-applying the compress she'd been using for hours. Michelangelo didn't seem to be responding to it. Worse, their water supply was getting critically low, and it had ceased raining. Rebecca knew the risk of dehydration was even greater with Mike's prolonged fever, in addition to him getting sick a few times. She left her soaked bandana on his forehead, and rubbed her arms in an anxious gesture, as she approached the mouth of their tunnel.

The sun was coming up. She'd hoped for some relief for Michelangelo by this time, but it didn't look like he was getting it. The turtle continued to burn, and had gotten harder to rouse again. Rebecca didn't want to leave him, but it was becoming increasingly necessary for her to find more water.

The young woman returned to his side, and knelt down swiftly now that she'd decided a course of action. "Mike."

"Mm."

"Mikey, wake up."

"Don't wanna. Tell the other guys to go first."

"What?"

"Tell Leo and Raph to..." Mike mumbled, and turned his head away from her.

Rebecca shook him more insistently, until dazed blue eyes opened fully. "Michelangelo. Mike, look at me."

"Where are we?"

Rebecca didn't know quite how to answer that; she just wanted to make sure that he was in some remote state of true awareness. She dashed a palm-full of precious water into his face, waiting while he blinked rapidly in surprise. "Mike?"

"Wh...Becky? Is it...morning?"

"Yeah, the sun's coming up. Are you good and awake? I need you to listen to me."

His head didn't rise, but at least his eyes followed her motion. "'m here Becky, for now anyway."

"I'm going to have to leave - I need to go back to the river."

"You're leaving?" his voice swelled slightly. "But you can't, I don't..."

"You'll get worse if you don't have any water Mike, and I'm going to need some eventually too. I have to go, there's no alternative."

The turtle whimpered softly as she pulled her arm away from him.

"I'll do my best to hurry, I promise. In the meantime, I'm going to leave the last of the supply here with you." Rebecca guided his hand to where she'd set the bottle. "It's not that far of a hike, hopefully it won't take more than an hour round trip."

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, and sighed quietly. "Hang in there, okay? I'll be back as soon as I can."

Rebecca set off from the cavern before she could feel any worse about leaving him, toting the containers with her to collect water. The fact that she hadn't slept in over 24 hours was weighing on her muscles a little, but there was nothing for it. She had to push on, or watch him slip further away.


	64. Separated

*** Many a thanks for all the love/reviews/PM's! I never expected to get such a favorable response to the relationship being built between Michelangelo and Rebecca. I have to admit, out of all four brothers, his has been the most enjoyable process. Hey, he's Mikey, I think that makes perfect sense. I loved Mike _before _I started writing this fic, but must say that getting to know him better has made me love him even more.**

** I have a long history of hurting the ones I love, but you know how it will end, if not what it will take to get there. They're not out of the woods yet, and even when they are...well, Mike's not completely cooperative. I guess blindly trusting an author is harder than it sounds.**

**

* * *

**

Rebecca's gait stumbled, but she was no less determined to keep going. Her thirst rose up to haunt her now too; she'd been intentionally withholding her own ration yesterday, and Mike had been too out of it to notice. As tired and thirsty as she felt however, the thought of the turtle drove her on.

_He has to get through this, I couldn't bear to watch him...God, he has to make it!_

Rebecca was breathless by the time she caught her first glimpse of the river, and bent over at the waist a little to pull herself back together. When she looked up at the thrashing water, she couldn't help shuddering. Its violence had by no means decreased. The question of how they'd survived to begin with flitted through her mind again.

She shook off the memory, and started scanning up and down the bank, searching for somewhere to gain easier access to the water. Rebecca trotted moderately along the shore, looking for a calmer portion that she could safely draw from. Common sense told her that the return trip was going to be more difficult than coming had been, as her load would weigh her down. Rebecca impatiently pushed that thought out of her mind too.

The narrow trail she'd been using was widening, into what was obviously a well-worn path. There were fresh animal tracks, but to her dismay, there were also human footprints. Her heart beat faster at the prospect of anyone else being nearby, and she immediately surveyed her surroundings suspiciously. There was nothing; just the usual insects, and occasional birds calling out to one another.

Rebecca moved forward, clutching one of the empty jugs that were looped over her shoulder. Now she was keeping a sharp eye out on the trail in front of her, wishing that she could abandon this way altogether. But it remained the quickest route to the inlet she sought, so she stayed put. Rebecca relaxed slightly as the minutes passed, as she noticed fewer disturbances on the ground.

It took a couple more minutes to locate the specific conditions she was looking for, and Rebecca jerked to a sudden stop when a shallower portion was revealed. She crouched near the ground as she filled up one of the filter bottles first, and allowed it to start working its magic while she busied herself plunging one of the larger jugs underwater.

Rebecca was straightening up to put the container aside, when she was hit with a chill of déjà vu. Silently she turned around, jolting severely when she realized it _wasn't _her imagination. Five men were lingering about a yard away from her, with another two younger boys standing off to one side. Rebecca forced herself to breathe, and act like nothing was unusual.

"_Excuse me_," she said apologetically, as she tried to put more distance between them and herself.

Her use of their language seemed to cause a bit of a stir among the group, though whether that was good or bad, she couldn't tell yet.

"_Forgive me for intruding," _Rebecca told them, taking notice of the fishing equipment that was now lying forgotten on the ground nearby. "_I will get out of your way_."

"_Wait_," one of them immediately said. "_You do not need to go_."

Rebecca tensed considerably as they formed a semi-circle, and stared at her appraisingly.

"_There is no reason to run from us. You look like you need help_." The speaker's tone had changed somewhat, sounding outright friendly now. "_We would be happy to assist you in any way we can, for one who speaks our tongue so well_."

"_That is very nice of you, but I need to go_." Rebecca slowly edged away from their advance, which only made them crowd closer.

"_Is something wrong? The day is early yet, and we found some success in our baits from last night. You're welcome to join us, to share in it. Is there anyone else nearby, companions perhaps? They are welcome to join us too."_

"_No, no, I'm alone_,"the words shot out of Rebecca's mouth. _"And I shouldn't be here, of all places."_

_"You will accompany us back to our village - our people will want to meet you, "_ the man said solemnly.

"_Thank you. I appreciate your kindness, but I honestly do have to go_."

"_That was not a request_," the speaker said shortly, and nodded to the men flanking him.

Rebecca stepped backward so fast that she nearly lost her footing, but the two men reaching for her kept the young woman on her feet.

"_Please, let me go_!" Begging probably wouldn't do any good, but the words leaped from her mouth before she could stop them. "_I am not hurting anyone. I have nothing to do with you!_"

The grim smile he gave her was his most uncomfortable expression yet.

"_You are the best thing to happen to our settlement in years - we could not possibly let you leave_."

Rebecca resisted the urge to hyperventilate. Michelangelo was alone, very sick, and had no one else to help him. There was no telling what might happen if she didn't get back to him. With that thought in mind, she clenched her jaw determinedly, but didn't resist the men prodding her to move. Rebecca didn't make a sound as she was herded in a different direction; she was focused on watching for an opportunity.

The two pairs of arms gripping her were discouraging an outright escape attempt, but even so, she wasn't giving up. Her feet were hardly touching the ground at the moment, and her captors felt so sure moving over the landscape, that she couldn't imagine them stumbling. At the sight of the tree root coming in their path, she decided it was time to do or die. As the natives stepped over it, Rebecca hooked one of her feet intentionally on the root and plunged forward, effectively separating herself from their grasp.

Rebecca rolled just out of reach of the cursing man who tried to tackle her. In a flash, she was on her feet, and made it five steps before something tripped her up again. The weighted thongs stung fiercely from where the weapon had wrapped around her legs, clearly thrown by someone behind her. Rebecca clawed at the leather strips to get it off, but was nowhere close to freedom before the men descended on her.

As they dragged her upright, she felt nothing but anger this time. "_What gives you the right to hold me? By your honor, you should do no harm to a stranger who has done none to you_!"

The original speaker's expression was stoic. "_We have no interest in hurting you young woman, not unless you try to escape again. You are much more valuable to the FDLR if you're alive."_

_

* * *

_

Michelangelo had no concept of the passage of time, let alone how long Rebecca had been gone. He couldn't even remember where she'd gone, or why. The only thing presently registering in his fevered mind was that the chills had returned in full force, and his thirst had become insatiable. Over the course of twelve hours he'd come around several times, but was faced only with growing questions.

He'd been vaguely aware of Rebecca's constant presence the night before, and the small reliefs she'd provided in the form of both warmth and water, depending on what he'd needed at the given time. The fire that had also been a steady companion was long dead, without even a flicker of an ember remaining to prove that it had ever been there.

The orange-masked turtle came awake in the early evening with a violent tremor, shaking him so hard that his teeth physically chattered. When Mike opened his eyes, part of him expected to see the faint glow that had partially illuminated things the night before, but now the cavern was bathed in darkness. Michelangelo's fingers felt around on the tent he was lying on top of, as if searching for a source of support to help him sit up.

The effort to rise was too much, and his head was buzzing so hard he could hardly think straight.

"Becky?" he called weakly, raising his head a couple of inches off the ground. He repeated her name after a few seconds of silence, but got nothing in return.

_Where did she go? Was she ever really here?_

Michelangelo grunted with determination as he tried to turn over, to get off the ground that felt like it was sucking the life out of him.

_If I could get up, maybe I'd figure a few things out._

Rolling onto his side was difficult enough; the idea of actually rising was absurd. The turtle achieved enough effort to boost himself off the tent, and landed on his back on the naked cavern floor. Michelangelo tried in vain to support himself on his elbows, but even lifting his limbs felt like yanking half-ton weights. Lifting his head again only resulted in worse dizziness, crashing over him so hard it felt like getting seasick.

_Have I ever _been_ seasick?_

The constant twisting in his abdomen made him feel nauseous enough, and the dizziness was making it worse. Michelangelo closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, willing the sick feeling in his stomach to pass, and resting so he could muster the energy to try and move again. Darkness was trying to creep over his mind, but he instinctively fought it.

It was quiet. The turtle couldn't recall even hearing a sound recently, adding to the dream-like state it felt like he was trapped in. He stayed still for a moment longer, and then his right arm flailed out once more to grasp the ground beneath him for help in rising. His hand brushed something softer than rock, smooth and cool under his finger-tips.

Mike's hand closed on the object, and he drew it close to his face to try and figure out what it was. In the small rays of moonlight that found their way inside the space, Michelangelo probed the cylindrical object confusedly, as if holding it for the first time. It took a few seconds longer for him to realize that it was a bottle, and then he automatically brought it to his mouth.

Discovering the open end wasn't hard, but no matter how he shook it, there was nothing inside. Michelangelo dropped the worthless item with a soft groan, as the entire arm that had been gripping it convulsed.

_Why am I alone? Where are the guys? Are they hurt, sick like this? I have to find a way out. It's too cold, Doc will kill me..._

Michelangelo decided to put everything he had into trying to get his knees underneath him. He ended up rolling again to get onto his plastron, so he might be able to at least crawl. Mike's legs scraped across the rocky cavern floor, but it didn't feel like he was getting anywhere yet.

_How did I get here? I've got to try and get out; I can't just lay here forever. C'mon turtle, this can't actually be that hard._

Using arms and legs together, he dragged himself a couple of inches, loathing the feeling of his skin scraping across stone. In his mind's eye, it _felt_ like he was losing layers of the epidermis with every small movement. He collapsed on his face after traveling a foot, imagining he'd done all kinds of damage in the short jaunt. The fevered hallucination of skin peeling off was too much for his stomach, and he barely turned his head before the dry heaves came up.

Michelangelo felt weaker than before, but determined to make a little more ground. He would keep going, he had no choice. If all he could do was crawl a couple of feet an hour, it would have to be enough. It was better than admitting outright failure. Michelangelo made it a few more inches, before he felt a small breeze. He propped up on his side for an instant longer, before rolling to collapse on his shell. The ice was warring with the heat, and for the next few minutes he shifted between shivering and sweating.

Mike's eyes roved over the empty darkness surrounding him. The longer he stared into space, the more the shadows seemed to take shape around him. Michelangelo jerked at the sight of something coming toward him, and a whimper escaped with his plea for help.

"Guys? Doc? I need you. Please, you've got to be there."

Only silence met him, but the dark shadow was growing, until it looked like it could engulf him entirely. It was larger than his brothers, or anyone else he knew for that matter, yet there was something familiar about it. As Mike tried to shift positions again, he had the distinct sensation of strong hands holding him down, crushing against his plastron. Struggling felt worthless, despite his desperation.

An Asian face dipped close to his, now whispering. "_Stay still for the Master_."

As meaty hands restrained what little effort he _could _have exerted, the flat part of a long blade traced his chin, and another Asian man was revealed to him.

"_I grow weary of fighting with you Michelangelo. I have asked so little of you, and yet you still resist me. Do you not yet understand the lives that are in _your _hands?I have no need of the women you so dearly cherish. I demand the Shitenno, or their blood will be forfeit_!"

Michelangelo tried to cry out, but it felt like his voice had been stolen from him.

_No, no, you guys have to save them! I'm sorry, I never should have started playing, I never should have-_

"_You are not the only one of your kind either, lest you forget I have knowledge of your brothers. My second may have been hasty in dealing with the one, but that would yet leave the other two."_

_Donny. Leo. They wouldn't let this go, there was no way they'd give up._

_"I intend to bring them in alive of course. I shall be very curious to see who is the first to break, though I have a hard time believing you will hold out much longer. There are ways I can hurt you Michelangelo, without even causing tremendous damage. I have all the time in the world - but yours is running out._

The speaker had been barely indenting his blade under Mike's chin, but now intentionally increased the pressure.

"_Is this how you want the girls to die, on the edge of my blade, without a voice left to scream with? You are forcing my hand Michelangelo."_

The turtle felt like crying out of sheer frustration. _Can't convince him...I wasn't smart enough. I'm sorry guys. I'm sorry..._

The fevered vision of Takashi disappeared from his sight entirely, as eyes heavy with exhaustion slumped closed.


	65. Splitting Up

Donatello jolted awake in the backseat of the Jeep, as if someone had called his name. He caught his breath for a few seconds, as he remembered where he was. Kirkland was still driving, with Luke beside him in the front passenger seat. His other two brothers were riding in the second Jeep being driven by Greg. Donatello couldn't help but wonder if they were sleeping any better than _he_ was. Luke didn't look like he'd been doing any either. His chin was resting heavily in his right hand like he could simply keel over at any given moment.

The purple-masked turtle heard the man saying something indistinguishable to Ryan, and reached to nudge his shoulder. "Excuse me Doc. What's going on? How does Mike's fever look?"

Luke glanced over his shoulder with a harrowing look. "No change Donny, it's been holding steady over 103 degrees since midnight, and it's probably not done rising."

Donatello winced at his words, and clenched both fists anxiously at his side. "Right, that's it then. Ryan, stop the car."

"That's _what _Donny?" Luke responded.

"What am I supposed to do here?" Ryan queried from the driver's seat.

"Pull over, _now_," Donatello ordered.

Their travel in the Jeeps over the past two days had been arduous to say the least, as they were forced to pick their way through the forest without a road in some places entirely. Donatello knew they couldn't keep this up, especially if his younger brother was only getting worse. Kirkland slowed to a stop, and Greg pulled off behind him. Before either man could say anything, Donatello leaped out of the car, and made for the other Jeep.

"Plan B guys, up and at 'em," he called forcefully.

His older brothers had already been roused by the change in the vehicle's acceleration, and sat up as though wide-awake.

Greg climbed out of the car, looking thoroughly confused. "Plan B? What are you talking about Donny?"

Rather than explaining, Donatello held up both arms to catch the bag that Raphael had just heaved in his direction. "Heff, where are those supplies that I asked you to get from the clinic in Beni?"

Greg crossed both arms over his chest. "They're in the back, but hang on a second! What's going on you guys?"

As Luke and Kirkland joined Greg on either side, Leonardo jumped out of the back of the Jeep with his own pack in hand.

"We're leaving," the blue-masked turtle informed them. "We'll be able to go faster on foot than we've been trailing through the trees in the vehicles."

"Just like that? You were planning this?" Luke didn't even try to contain the angry undertone.

"We have to Doc - you understand the situation as well as I do," Donatello said flatly. "Mikey's in big trouble, and he can't afford any more delays. That means we have to get moving." He shouldered the pack already in his hands, and turned his gaze to Greg. "Now, where's that stuff at Heff?"

Greg walked him around the back, and dug through a few objects to find the bag Donatello needed. "So what now?" he asked stiffly. "You three are going to run off with the scanner, leaving us with no way to track_ you_?"

"You've already got Mike's coordinates loaded in your GPS, and he hasn't moved in days. Just stay the course you've been taking, and you can catch back up with us. Obviously we have to take the scanner, so we can find him ourselves," Donatello answered.

"Yeah, it's that simple right?" Luke asked bitterly. "Only it's _never_ that simple. I don't like this idea, I don't want us splitting off this way."

"Do you have a better plan Doc?" Raphael shot back. "Some helicopter in your back pocket, that can get us where we all need to go? No, I didn't think so. You've got to trust us guys, we can handle ourselves."

"Why not let one of us come with you?" Greg pressed.

"Because you'll slow us down," Raphael said bluntly. "I'm sorry, but you know that's how it would be," he finished apologetically.

Luke clenched a fist nervously, bracing it against his forehead for a couple seconds before looking at Donatello imploringly. "Donny, what about your leg?"

"It's been two weeks Doc, and I didn't damage any muscle, remember? Don't try to stand in our way, you _know_ we don't have another option."

"Why couldn't you have said something _before_ this?" Luke demanded.

"'Cause we didn't wanna fight with you if we didn't have to!" Raphael exclaimed.

Luke finally nodded, looking absolutely defeated. "Are you sure you have everything?" he mumbled.

Donatello held up the additional small bag Greg had retrieved for him. "We do now. We'll keep one of the phones, so we can stay in contact with you guys. All of you are going to have to get some sleep, you're the ones who haven't had any. Take the time to get it."

As Leonardo and Raphael joined the purple-masked turtle, Kirkland nervously shifted from one foot to the other.

"Don't let each other out of your sight," the Brit warned them. "I'd offer a gun, but I'm certain you wouldn't take it."

"Don't worry about us," Leonardo spoke up quickly. "We'll be fine. You three should stay here to rest now, and follow us in a few hours."

"Right, as if we'll be able to sleep," Greg scoffed, frustration clinging to his tone.

"Heff man, you can't go on forever," Raphael pointed out. "You were gonna to have to stop sooner or later anyway."

"But _you're_ not stopping."

"We ain't the ones who've been driving! Look, we don't need to stand here and argue about it anymore. Our minds are made up."

"Then go," Luke said faintly. "Because we're not going to stop trying to talk you out of it until you do."

The doctor caught Donatello by the arm before he could take a step. "Call me when you find him."

"We will Doc. Don't kill yourselves, okay? Just follow when you can."

"Take as much water as you can carry," Luke directed. "Mike's going to need it."

* * *

After waiting days for action, the turtles were more than ready to actually run. Donatello could tell that his brothers were reluctant to go full-speed ahead for his sake, regardless of the fact that they were carrying more weight in supplies than he was.

"Guys, if I wasn't ready, I wouldn't have agreed to this course of action," Donatello said impatiently.

"We're trying to keep in mind what's best for you too Donny," Leonardo told him.

"Well, you can stop. My leg's going to hold up, and even if it didn't-"

"Even if it didn't, we'll get him there between the two of us Fearless," Raphael interrupted. "He's right, let's book already."

They were traveling mostly downhill through the night, their shadows hardly showing even where the full moon was visible through the breaks in the tree canopy. Finding a way through the vegetation hardly slowed their progress, though they weren't smashing straight through for the sake of excess noise.

By the time the sun was coming up, Donatello was definitely feeling the three hour run straining on his stitches, but he was unconcerned. Luke could always fix them later. They slowed further as they approached the foothills of two mountains that had been looming like twin giants in the distance, and considered the land that lay before them.

"We could go around, but I'd question whether that could take longer than going over," Leonardo said thoughtfully. "It would be safer to climb now that it's daylight. The real question is, how are you holding up Donny?"

"I'm okay," he answered swiftly. "As far as climbing, I think it would take longer, and end up being more dangerous than it's really worth. We're probably going to have to go around."

Raphael had been standing slightly apart from the two of them with a pair of digital binoculars, and scoffed at that statement. "Forget going around it you brainiacs. It looks like we can just go _through_. See for yourselves."

Donatello took the binoculars from him, and zoomed in on the area Raphael had been focusing on. It hadn't been immediately obvious to the naked eye, but there did appear to be a small path-way between the twin peaks. "Common sense wins again."

It took another forty minutes for the brothers to find their way through to the other side, and Donatello began to focus more heavily on the precise signal he was tracking. Donatello was so desperate to find him at this rate, that it felt a little bit surreal by the time they were almost on top of the coordinates, searching their way alongside the jutting rocks. Donatello's gaze had been trained on the screen for the most part, when he suddenly jolted to a stop.

"Here - it's _got_to be close. C'mon!"

The purple-masked turtle broke into an all-out run, dashing toward the first crevice in the mountain that came into sight. He jerked his flashlight off his belt, and swung it into the darkness with baited breath. The beam swept hurriedly across the floor, landing on a sight that was both relieving and alarming at the same time.

Donatello rushed inside to where his brother was lying on his shell, dropping like a rock to his knees at his side. The relief was so immense that he didn't even bother trying to stem the rising tears. He automatically reached to find his pulse. Regardless of what his scanner was already telling him, he needed to feel it for himself. As it throbbed too rapidly under his finger, he focused the beam of his flashlight on probing Michelangelo further.

His younger brother's skin was terribly hot, but it was also completely _dry_, with angry red streaks running across the surface. Donatello tried unsuccessfully to rouse him, and only then noticed that his older brothers were beside him.

"What's going on Donny? What can we do?" Leonardo asked at once. "Instruct us."

"First, let's get him moved someplace more..." Donatello trailed off, as he noticed the bundle of blankets on the ground a couple of feet away. "Yeah, that'll do," he said to himself. "Will you guys grab him for me, but give me a second to straighten this out."

Donatello's brow furrowed in curiosity over the material of the tent on the bottom of the pile, but then he shrugged.

_Whatever works_.

As his brothers laid him carefully down, Donatello cast a quick glance around the cavern again. They'd expected to find Rebecca with Michelangelo, but the young woman was nowhere in sight.

"Donny, he ain't sweating," Raphael mentioned. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"No Raph," Donatello said quietly. "The reason he isn't sweating is because his body doesn't have the fluid to produce perspiration, which means that he's not getting any temperature regulation whatsoever. He's critically dehydrated."

"That doesn't mean he could still-"

"No, because we're not going to _let _that happen," Donatello interrupted. "We're going to need a fire eventually, but first things first. I need you guys to set up some compresses for him, while I get the formula off the ground. Once I have the infusion pump running, I'll use the satellite imaging on the scanner, and see if I can't locate another water source nearby. We're seriously going to need to supplement our supply in order to keep the compresses on him, plus he's got to drink eventually. I'm not going far, and this shouldn't take me very long. Keep a close eye on him."

Donatello went back out of the cavern, to where daylight would make his project easier. He felt someone's gaze after a few minutes had passed, and turned to see Leonardo staring at the bags of fluid that he already had resting on top of the tarp he was working on.

"I'm confused about how this is going to work," the blue-masked turtle confessed. "Without a machine, how can you use an IV properly?"

"This is called 'improvising' Leo, and it's the main reason I asked Heff to make the return trip into Beni. I have the IV line that I need to establish a flow directly with his vein. The infusion pump is the apparatus responsible for getting the fluid flowing, but there are some tricks you can use in the absence of the typical machine. One of the simplest methods - as far as equipment is required - calls for nothing more than a blood-pressure cuff. C'mere, and I'll show you how it works."

Leonardo dropped down on the ground with him, as Donatello slipped the cuff over one of the prepared bags.

"Now, the pressure that I set through pumping the cuff, is the same rate at which the fluid will be infused into his vein. It's risky to try if you don't know what you're doing, because our veins are only designed to handle a certain _amount _of pressure. It's going to require a lot of adjustments, and a constant eye, to make sure that everything stays properly balanced."

"What are you giving him exactly? I know it's more than just water, I saw you mixing something else in there."

"Sodium chloride."

"Isn't that...that's just salt, right?"

"You're right Leo. He needs more than just water to recover; we have to replace electrolytes too. This will serve both purposes."

"And you're sure this will work?"

Donatello rose with a soft exhale. "I've never used this method before, but I technically understand what I need to do."

As they both returned to the cave, Leonardo hung back a little while Donatello moved in to prepare the needle that would accompany the IV. When Donny glanced back over his shoulder, he noticed that Leonardo was hunched closely to the ground, and appeared to be studying something.

"What are you doing Leo?"

"There are footprints," Leonardo answered. "Not very fresh, but someone else was here."

"That makes sense," Raph spoke up. "That girl was supposed to be with him. But where would she have gone? How could someone leave him like this?"

"Based on April and Marc's description of her, I can't see Rebecca just abandoning him Raph. There had to be a good reason - water for one," Donatello offered.

"Yeah, but Leo said the tracks were old. She didn't bother coming back?"

"Now don't make any assumptions here Raph, we don't know what actually happened," Leonardo remonstrated lightly, as his eyes were drawn by the bright yellow back-pack.

The blue-masked turtle got up to investigate it, sifting slowly through its' contents. "If she'd _planned_ on leaving him, I think she would have taken her stuff with her. Don't you?"

"And if she didn't plan on it, then where the shell is she?" Raphael's concern for his youngest brother made him extremely sharp.

"Guys, we have to get organized here," Donatello's voice cut through their discussion. "I'm going to get this line inserted, and then we have to start thinking about water."

"You can leave that to me and Leo," Raphael replied. "You just concentrate on getting him better."

"I'm working on it Raph. It's actually a good thing he's not awake for this part." Donatello slid the needle into an appropriate vein under the beam of his flashlight.

The purple-masked turtle was on the verge of tears again, as he began carefully pumping the blood-pressure cuff to start the infusion. He blinked them away as he turned to watch the gauge, to determine the correct amount of pressure to apply to the IV solution. Michelangelo definitely appeared to have lost some weight over the course of the two weeks he'd been missing, but didn't look like he was hurt otherwise. Nevertheless, Donatello was certain none of them had ever been this dehydrated before, and recognized the true danger of it.

_This _has_ to work, or I don't know what else we can do._


	66. Wakening

Donatello sat unmoving from his position on the cavern floor, both waiting for some sign of Mike regaining awareness, and watching the pressure gauge like a hawk. His brother had yet to respond to anything Donatello had been doing, but his blood pressure also hadn't dipped any lower, and the fever that had topped out close to 105 degrees had come down very slightly.

The turtles had been inside the cave with Michelangelo for approximately twelve hours, before the rest of their "crew" showed up with the Jeeps. The men bore similar expressions; a mixture of relief and nerves showing in their faces, especially after Leonardo started to tell the humans what he and Raphael had discovered earlier that afternoon.

"Donatello got us in the right direction to connect with the river, we've made a couple trips out there for water already. The thing is, we're not alone here, there's a settlement not two miles from where we picked up the trail of the Congo River. The path has plenty of use, there are traces of both humans and animal life. On the last trip out there, we spent some serious time searching for tracks. There weren't many undisturbed prints, but I'm fairly certain that I found some of Rebecca's. I would bet that she was down there."

"But they couldn't lead you anywhere else?" Kirkland was obviously forlorn at the notion of still not knowing where Rebecca was.

"There wasn't anything definitive Ryan. The tracks I assumed could be hers were obscured by too many other pairs," Leonardo replied.

"I just don't believe she'd do that, I don't think she'd leave him," Kirkland faltered. "Not willingly."

No one said anything in return.

"We don't have any real leads to follow yet, except to hope that Mike might have some information for us," Leonardo finally said.

"It would be worth checking out the settlement," Ryan told him. "I'm not talking about you going; I could have a look around myself."

"You _could, _but you won't," Raphael said sharply. "No way you're getting mixed up with some natives you don't even know. We'll figure something out, but you're not gonna drop straight in on them like that."

Luke had joined Donatello, and was busy catching up on what he'd been doing for Michelangelo.

"I held off on the hydralin Doc, I was afraid it would only keep him under longer," Donatello said, speaking of the normal formula they used against fevers.

"It was the right thing Donny, we still need him to wake up so he can _physically_ drink. We can only infuse a small amount of that solution at a time, and he needs to absorb more water than he's currently getting."

"I know, I feel like the progress has been at a snail's pace," Donatello said, voice trembling slightly.

Luke laid a hand on the orange-masked turtle's forehead. "I'm here now Donny, so let's take this in shifts. I want you to get some sleep soon."

When Donatello opened his mouth to protest, Luke held up a hand to stop him. "That way, you can get up with him in the morning."

Luke's logic was hard to argue with, but deep down, Donatello still wanted to try.

"Is there anything else we can be doing to help you?" Greg asked Luke.

"We just need to make sure the water supply stays strong for the compresses, and that it's being filtered for drinking too. He may start to come around before the night is over, and that's where I could need some real help. If he isn't cooperative, we'll have to apply force."

"That's what me and Leo are here for," Raphael offered. "Holding Mikey down should be a sport in and of itself."

The red-masked turtle drew close to where Luke and Donny were working on replacing another bag of fluid, and starting the slow drip all over again. "He's gonna be one hungry turtle when he comes around, isn't he Doc?"

"I sure hope so Raph," Luke returned, and patted Raphael's good shoulder.

Raphael didn't shrug the arm off, seemingly in no hurry to break Luke's contact. Lines of worry were still etched behind the cocky smile he tried to give Donatello. "He'll be eating us right out of house and home."

"We're together now, that's the important thing," the purple-masked turtle replied. "Finding him almost felt like a dream itself, and there are still so many unanswered questions. How did they get this far away to begin with? There's not an ounce of reason in it."

"Aren't you supposed to be going to rest Donny? I don't have to reserve force just for Mikey y'know," Raphael emphasized.

"Pushy, pushy."

* * *

_Michelangelo had been endlessly floating, captured inside a tangled web of confusing images that shifted and changed without a moment's notice. The outside world was a lowly memory. How long had he been here? Days? Years? It was impossible to tell. The twilight that existed between visions had no meaning, no sign to mark the passage of time for him. He couldn't say when the darkness had taken over, and he had no idea when it might recede. _

_His limbs felt utterly sluggish, as if they were weighed down by a powerful source of pressure. It wasn't worth trying anything. Every minute task that he conceived of doing ended up being too difficult. It was no use to fight floating. The visions were the only place where he had any mobility; he could hardly remember what it was like to _actually_ move. _

_Small twirling lights were the first things to break up the perpetual night, and his "unseeing" eyes curiously strove to follow them, in what felt like a hypnotic fashion. They raced away from him so quickly that he figured he'd never catch up. Yet in the moment that he assumed them lost, the white globes returned, dazzling his eyes with sudden fierceness._

The turtle cringed away from the lights, and as his body shifted, the first outward sensation of the hard cavern floor beneath him returned. The unexpected feeling caused the orange-masked turtle to blink rapidly, and realize that his eyes were already open. White was the only color that registered, striking him like searing heat after the darkness he'd been accustomed to.

A sharp prick in his right arm caused him to jolt, as other senses began to wash over him again as well. The force of someone's hands holding him down brought back the desperate memory of Takashi and Dachai, only making Michelangelo struggle harder in their grip. He yanked his arm away from the foreign object trying to invade it, gnashing his teeth in a furious growl at the unrelenting hands that pressed him down harder.

The white light retreated to allow darkness to swathe back around him, but his captors weren't finished with him yet. Michelangelo felt the sting a second time, followed by another hand invading his personal space, grazing against his face. Michelangelo tried to jerk away from it, as he felt fingers grasping his chin. He angrily tried to shake his head out of his enemy's hands.

He heard strange sounds that were probably words, but he couldn't tell what they were saying. The contact of something cool against his forehead startled him, but the relief it offered from the persistent heat cut off the snarl that was hovering at the back of his throat. Mike felt himself drifting, drifting, falling back into the ocean of twilight, content to leave behind the circling globes of light, and the strange hands that were probing him.

_Whoever_ it was wouldn't let him escape. He was being pulled and prodded insistently; and something was also propping up his shell from behind. Mike squirmed uncomfortably, instinctively turning his head away from the relentless stranger.

"_No..._leave me alone..." Michelangelo moaned, but he couldn't even be sure the sound really came from him.

Something brushed against his mouth, and he backed away instantly. It was pressed harder, and the cool sensation that it provided captured his attention, made him hesitate. The drop of water that wet his lips was enough to get him to open his mouth eagerly. Michelangelo tried to swallow too quickly in his haste, and the water came back up painfully through his parched throat.

"Slowly. Slowly Mike."

The words sounded far away, but at least he recognized the speech. The object returned to his mouth a second time, and he willed himself to take a tiny sip, though the fear of throwing up again remained. He swallowed carefully through several succeeding sips, relishing each and every one.

The heaviness still weighed down his body, though he didn't_ feel _anyone physically restraining him anymore. The turtle sighed extremely wearily, as the spreading coolness over his plastron against the radiating heat helped him to relax further. Without meaning to, his head lolled against the figure bracing him from behind, and the outside world faded back to black.

* * *

The next time Michelangelo stirred, it was as if the cloud covering his mind had finally dissipated somewhat. He lay silent for a few minutes as his thoughts rallied, and he tried to pull himself back together. A twinging pain in his stomach reminded him what had been going on.

_I was sick - am sick? Becky helped, she got me here _somehow_._

Something brushing against his face helped him stir further, and then he exerted the effort to open leaden eye-lids.

"Becky?" he mumbled, before he could actually see anything. "What's happening?"

"Mike, it's me," an unexpected voice returned, and the orange-masked turtle's eyes shot open.

Michelangelo assumed he had to be hallucinating, but the hand grasping his felt so_ real_.

"Mike? Can you understand me?"

"Don?" he croaked, still with a sense of unbelief. "_Donny_?"

Something between a laugh and a sob left the purple-masked turtle, as he bent further over him. "Yeah. I'm here Mikey."

"But...how? When did you..."

"It's been about 24 hours," Donatello replied, lacing an arm around his shell. "C'mon, let's get you sitting up."

Michelangelo shut his eyes as his equilibrium crashed and spun, re-opening them after a few seconds, to find Donatello offering him a water bottle. He verily lunged for it, but his brother held it slightly out of reach.

"_Easy_ Mike. You have to drink it slowly. I won't take it away, I promise. One sip at a time, and you should be able to keep it down."

In between drinking, his blue eyes began roving a little. "Where are the others?"

"Leo and Raph went to get water, and everyone else is asleep right now."

"Everyone's okay?"

The way Donatello hesitated made Mike very nervous.

"For the most part," he finally said. "Some of us are still healing, but everyone will _be_ okay. We've had some...setbacks. Starting with losing the scanner in the middle of all the madness, the night we were separated. I'm sorry that it took us this long to find you Mike, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through."

"It was okay," Mike murmured tiredly. "Right up 'til I got sick. Me and Becky made a good team. Is she doing all right too? I lost sight of her at some point."

Donny was silent for a beat longer, and settled more heavily on the ground. "We don't know Mike. When we arrived yesterday, she wasn't here. There are signs that attest to her presence...but we don't know where she is _now_."

Michelangelo's eyes startled more awake a second time. "You haven't seen her?"

"No, and the tracks we're assuming belonged to her are a couple of days old."

"Oh shell, that's not right." Mike's breathing quickened with sudden intensity. "She wouldn't leave me, Rebecca's not like that. Something's happened to her, I know it Donny! You guys have to find her!"


	67. Nandi

"Sweet" Rebecca was in rare form, consumed by more seething anger than she realized could come out of her. Her repeated attempts to escape had only succeeded in getting her bound, though not actually hurt. The men had been more lenient than their promised threats, but their resolve to turn her over to the FDLR didn't seem to have shifted. The young woman had shut her mouth the day before, and staunchly refused to utter another syllable to anyone who entered the small dwelling she was sitting in.

The fear over Michelangelo had become almost intolerable, and it left her inwardly searching for some idea to get away from the natives. Rebecca wasn't the violent type - she'd never struck another person out of anger, or with true intention to harm them. If she could get free this moment, she was seriously questioning whether she would cling to that philosophy.

Rebecca reinforced her standing of sullen resentment when she heard the door being opened, ready to offer a scowl to whoever showed their face. The lone man watching over her had left a couple of minutes prior, leading her to believe that a replacement couldn't be that far behind. The figure slipping through the entrance _wasn't _who Rebecca expected to see, starting with the fact that it was a woman. Thus far only the men had been staying with her or trying to communicate.

Rebecca's curiosity made her mask of anger falter for an instant, but it returned with a vengeance. The middle-aged African woman looked over her shoulder at the door, pressing against it firmly as if she wanted to make certain it was shut.

"_You have not eaten a thing in two days_." The woman's tone was slightly pleading.

Rebecca rolled her eyes as she turned away._ You think I don't know that? Thanks for reminding me._

"_It will not do you any good to starve yourself_." The stranger persisted.

_Won't do me any good to listen to a thing you're saying either._

"_I am trying to help you_."

_So now captivity is equivalent to "helping"? That's an interesting twist._

"Refusing to eat will not help you escape," the woman offered suddenly in English.

Rebecca stiffened in surprise, but didn't immediately look at the native.

"My name is Nandi. There are things you must understand child."

"What am I missing?" Rebecca snapped, as her resolve on silence finally broke. "Your people are turning me over to the enemy for a bribe. Do you really believe that men like that are your _friends_? You'll regret making an alliance with the rebels, I guarantee it!"

"We have not made an alliance with them." The woman's soft tone made Rebecca want to falter in her own volume. "We are ensnared by them, in much the same way that you were. Our leaders are trying to do what they think is best for our people. They take no joy in your suffering."

"If you expect me to believe-"

"It is the truth!" Nandi stated more insistently. "We are far indebted to the FDLR, at least according to the rebels' claims. They exercise control over our resources, barely leaving us the food we need to survive. In exchange for you, they had offered to allow the settlement to keep more of the crops, on a permanent basis."

Rebecca felt empathy rising in spite of herself, but then shook her head. "And you think they'll honor their agreement? The rebels don't know the meaning of the word. They'll continue to bleed you dry, no matter what you do with me."

"That is the belief of several of us, but our tribesmen are quite set on attempting to attain this relief. I apologize for this hurt child, and regret that I do not have the ability to sway them otherwise. I do not want you to die in the rebel's hands, believing that all natives are blood-thirsty vultures, only looking out for their interests. Our men have an entire village to consider, and difficult decisions to make."

Rebecca eyed the woman warily, allowing her guard down, however slightly. "I _know _that all the natives aren't like that," Rebecca said simply. "Some of the best friends I've ever had came from this country. I'm not going to be so easily colored."

"What does this 'colored' mean?"

"It means...it means I'm not biased. I don't judge an entire civilization, based on the actions of a few people."

"I see," the woman said wistfully. "How did you come to speak our language so well?"

"I'd rather know where you learned English," Rebecca replied crisply.

"Ah, well, that is simple enough to explain. I grew up in Kisangani, where I was tutored in a number of languages, English being one of them. Both I and my husband Sekayi speak it."

"What on earth are you doing _here_ then?"

"My father was a well known official with the government, very powerful in that region. Like so many other leaders, he responded to the bribes that came along with the position, until he was solely driven by money. He had his own ideas for my future, and how I was supposed to fit in with his plans. I wanted nothing of the life he'd created, so I left, along with Sekayi. There is not much else to tell."

"I hardly believe that," Rebecca stated. "What you're saying is that you grew up privileged, and chose to give it up on principle?"

"I gave it up for something better than money: freedom," Nandi replied. "I had the opportunity to fall in love, to escape the lies being forced upon me, and to not take advantage of everyone less fortunate than me."

Rebecca wasn't sure how much she could trust of the woman's speech. "Now you've come to make certain that I'm not going to hold a grudge against your people for the last few days that I'm living?"

"It is more than that Miss Tompkins. I would like to help you, if I can. I would set you free, if I thought it was possible for you to escape. But the men consider you their closely guarded treasure. Their eyes do not leave this place, and they only sent me to reason with you, and make sure that you ate something."

Rebecca scowl returned. "Your _men _have no idea what kidnapping me could be costing someone else!" Hot tears rose as she pictured the orange-masked turtle on his own, and she turned her head away from Nandi to hide them. "They can't grasp the hurt they've committed," she said fiercely, and resolved to say nothing more on the matter.

* * *

"Geesh Raphy, what _happened_ to you?" Michelangelo blurted out when he caught his first good glimpse of his red-masked brother.

Raphael fingered the prominent claw mark that was still etched across his face, and shrugged at Michelangelo as if unconcerned. "I got into with a leopard, and she didn't wanna play nice."

"Aw Raph...you weren't trying to bring home another friend for Tiger, were you?"

Raphael shook his head at the younger turtle. "There wasn't anything friendly about that encounter Mikey. 'Course, she thought she was protecting her kids from a big bad turtle, so how can I blame her?"

Michelangelo's vision clouded over slightly, as anxiety suddenly returned to the surface. "Is anybody gonna get around to telling me what happened, or where everybody is?"

Raphael glanced around at the others, as if searching for assistance. "Anytime someone wants to chime in, feel free."

"Hey, don't baby me," Michelangelo proclaimed as sharply as his decreased energy allowed. "Where _is_ everybody?"

Leonardo came slowly around to the orange-masked turtle's side. "We're not trying to hide anything from you Mike. It's just that a lot has happened, and we'd rather not stress you out further."

"You mean because Becky's _missing_, and I can't even go look for her?" Mike fumed bitterly.

"Mike, we're going to start a more thorough search of our own, it would just be nice to have something to go on. You don't think she would have gone to that village?" Leonardo asked evenly.

"That's not what I said Leo. She could have ended up there, but it wouldn't have been by choice, not for this long," Michelangelo replied faintly, as he rubbed his throbbing forehead. "Who's gonna tell me where people are?"

"Marcus, April, and Brandon had to go back to the States, and they're all fine now."

Michelangelo's pointed look forced Leonardo to elaborate.

"Marc needed breathing treatments for his asthma, and Brandon ended up getting shot the night everything went down. It was intense, but they're both out of the hospital."

Michelangelo rose a couple of inches off the ground, shoulders trembling with the effort it took. "He was shot?" Mike was unable to keep his voice steady with the question. "Was it bad?"

Leonardo hesitated a beat longer, and then nodded. "It was Mike, but the good news is, he'll make a full recovery. We'll explain everything in more detail, but I think that's all you need to know on that front this second."

"And Tim?" Michelangelo was afraid to ask more questions, but he had to know.

"The leopard picked a fight with him first," Raphael volunteered. "I sorta butted into the middle of it."

"Yeah, he _sorta_ saved his life," Leonardo said over him.

"Tim's back in Beni. He wasn't critically injured, but his infection risk was too high to go trekking through the rainforest with us," Donatello told him.

Michelangelo was still trying to recover from the news that Brandon had been wounded, badly enough that he had to return home. He was silent for a few more seconds, before glancing over at Donatello again. "How long am I gonna be down?"

"That's impossible to say Mikey," Donny said apologetically. "Given your symptoms and the time you had for incubation-"

"English?" Mike requested.

"From the point when you initially contract a virus, there's a kind of 'waiting period' that occurs between when you start displaying the actual symptoms of it. The amount of the lapse varies between different sicknesses. Based on the symptoms, the short amount of time you had to both contract the virus, and make it through the incubation period, we're pretty sure you've got Yellow Fever."

"You mean that thing that the others had to get vaccinated for?"

"Exactly Mike. The DRC forces all tourists to receive the vaccination before they enter the country, because the virus tends to hit foreigners pretty hard. The usual infection consists of symptoms very similar to what you've been through, with a fever persisting for about 3-4 days from the time that it starts manifesting. Add in the dehydration on top of it, and you've got a recipe for absolute disaster. Even after the fever breaks, it's going to take a few days for you to get your strength back."

"Becky doesn't have that kind of time," Mike said shortly. "If she's been taken by the wrong natives, they'll hand her back over to the rebels."

"Raph and I have been discussing this extensively Mike," Leo assured him. "You have to relax, and let us handle this ourselves."

Michelangelo dropped flat back on the bedding, feeling utterly defeated. No amount of willpower could make up the difference for how tired he was, or force the lingering heat and other symptoms out of his body.

Leonardo's arm met his shoulder. "I know this is hard," the blue-masked turtle said soberly. "But we're not going to abandon her, anymore than she would have abandoned you."

"You _do_ believe me about that, don't you?" Mike asked more weakly. "I haven't known her for that long, but still..." He trailed off as his gaze fell back to the ground. "You've just gotta find her."

"We will," Leonardo stated, with a certainty that Mike couldn't wrap his head around.

_How can he be so sure? They've got nothing to go on._

Michelangelo broke out of thought, as Greg dropped down on the ground beside him.

"It's going to be awhile before I let _you_ out of sight again," the man said impishly.

Greg's tone was light, but the smile he gave him didn't exactly feel jovial.

"I'm sorry you guys," Mike announced raggedly, to anyone within earshot. "I'm _really_ sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, to cause this much panic."

"You're not the one who should be apologizing. Tim and I could have killed ourselves for letting them cut us off from you. But how_ did _you get all the way out here Mikey?" Greg asked. "That's been plaguing us ever since we got the ability to track you."

"Becky and I got cornered, and had nowhere to go. We decided, or I should say_ I _decided to take our chances on the river."

Greg blinked in astonishment. "You hitched a ride on the flood waters?"

Mike nodded, though he immediately regretted the motion.

"And you_ lived_?"

A small smile appeared on Mike's face in spite of himself. "No Heff, we both died back there. That's why you're talking to me right now," he said sardonically.

"How did you make it?"

Michelangelo's shoulders barely rose in a shrug. "We fought our way through it, and we ended up further away than _this_. We stayed put those first few days, before we found out that those idiots were still looking for Marc and Becky. That's when we started back-tracking to find the rest of you."

"Speaking of 'looking' for people, has anybody seen Ryan?" Raphael asked suddenly. "He said was that he was gonna use the phone, but that was an hour ago."

"He's not outside?" Leonardo asked, as he darted toward the entrance to look for himself.

"I just did that Fearless - he's not there. Did he tell anyone else he was going somewhere?"

"Let me ask Doc," Donatello suggested, ambling over to wake Luke, who'd gone down to rest shortly before Kirkland had ducked out.

Greg took pity on Michelangelo as he tried to sit up on his own, and helped support the turtle from behind, as Donatello was rousing Luke.

"Sorry Doc, I need to ask you something."

"Mmm...okay, I'm awake. What is it Donny?"

"Did Ryan happen to mention that he was leaving to you?"

"_Leaving_? No, he didn't say-" Luke cut himself off sharply with a serious jolt. "My watch is gone."

"You didn't take it off maybe?" Greg asked.

"No, Donny and I are permanently attached to those things! Why would my watch be_ gone_?"

"I'm pretty sure I know why." Donatello groaned.


	68. Infiltrating

Ryan hesitated a little bit longer, hidden in the trees a few feet away from where the settlement began. He couldn't say for certain if anyone knew he was there, or if there was a true threat. In his mind, there was only one way to find out. Ryan replaced the field guide he'd been poring over for awhile. He knew that communication with the natives was going to be tricky at the very least. There wasn't a good chance of any of these people understanding a word of English or French.

Kirkland understood the risk he was taking, but considered it _his _responsibility to take. From his pocket he yanked out the flyer he'd been carrying around for days, and took a deep breath as he started walking. From the reaction of the young people hanging around the edge of the village, it didn't seem like they'd known he was lingering in the tree-line. Ryan opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, they'd already scattered.

The man steeled his nerves to keep going forward, fingering the rifle that was strapped over his shoulder. The faintest of rustles to his right made him glance over his shoulder. There was now a thicket of spears behind him. Ryan's hand rested firmly on his weapon, but he mentally commanded himself not to panic. Kirkland had no interest in killing natives - he just needed to find out if Rebecca was here.

One of the men separated slightly from the others, addressing Ryan so rapidly that he couldn't begin to make sense of the foreign language.

"_Slowly_," Ryan requested in their own tongue. "_I only know this...little? Need help to..." _Kirkland faltered, searching for the correct words out of the several terms he'd been studying, which had just gone completely out of his mind.

The native started off with another speech at the same rate of speed, and Ryan held up both hands toward him.

"_Stop. I do not know this_."

Kirkland took his hand off his rifle, hoping that it would help them relax somewhat, and extended the flyer he had in his other hand.

"_Her_," Ryan stated emphatically, tapping the paper to further his point. "_I need help to...she is_..."

Kirkland cursed himself inwardly for not knowing the words, and was starting to reach for his field guide in exasperation, when a different man stepped forward.

"You can speak English?" the native asked, startling the Brit a great deal.

Ryan then nodded with a sense of relief. "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry, I'm not trying to intrude here or threaten anyone."

The second individual turned to converse with the first, and then looked at Ryan once more. "What are you doing here? Why have you come?"

Ryan held out the flyer a second time. "I'm searching for this woman," he stated boldly. "She disappeared a couple of days ago."

"And why did you think to come here?"

Kirkland noticed the man hadn't denied her presence. "We were staying nearby your village, and it was the first natural place to look. I apologize for just showing up, but I have a lot riding on the line concerning this girl."

"Do you know what this says?" he asked, as he took the flyer that Kirkland was extending.

"No precisely, no. I've only used it as a point of reference for what they look like. I was hired to do a job, and I intend to see it through."

"What job would that be?"

Ryan hesitated, shifting in his stance as he considered what story he should use. It didn't feel like they were going to readily admit to holding Rebecca. The native's interest in the flyer only served to convince him further.

"I've been tracking these two for days," Kirkland said finally. "I caught up with them about three nights ago. They're wanted by the FDLR, and I intend to collect on them. That is until this girl escaped me. Now I've still got the other, but they're more valuable together. I didn't want to walk away, without giving this a shot."

As the native turned to his leader a second time, speech erupted more quickly between them than it had yet. "Then you are not alone," the man said flatly. "Where is your other prisoner?"

Kirkland smiled. "He's secure - I made certain of that. But as I already stated, I need the woman too. You have her, don't you?"

"What if we did? Would you expect us to simply hand her over to you, when we understand her value as well as you do?"

"Ideally, you would return what belongs to me, but I'm not a man without an eye for a bargain. As I've already stated, they're worth more together than they are separately. There is a matter of reputation to be considered as well. It might serve all of our interests to combine forces," Ryan said evenly.

The discussion between the two natives almost felt casual this time.

"We would like to speak with you further, Mr..."

"Kirkland. We have more to talk about, you and I?"

"I should say we do, but not while your gun remains. You will not take one step into our village unless you surrender it."

Ryan thought hard for a few seconds. He was obviously outnumbered, and wouldn't have enough bullets to take out all the men in the settlement anyway. With an inward sigh, he released the rifle to them, in return for being escorted into the village. It was a dangerous game to play, but Ryan's sole objective was to find Rebecca. He had a strong feeling that the turtles would be able to take care of the rest.

"I am Sekayi Mr. Kirkland. You will find that the others cannot understand you. You will want to stay close to me," the native informed him.

* * *

Rebecca had gotten used to people coming and going, and didn't even look up when someone entered this time. The single pair of footsteps was followed by a couple more sets, but she didn't stir in the least. Rebecca could feel them standing there, staring at her back as she faced the wall obstinately, refusing to acknowledge their presence.

"Well, well, Miss Tompkins, how lovely it is to see _you_ again."

The voice with its' British lilt was too shocking to actually be real, and Rebecca _had_ to turn over to lay eyes on her long lost "bodyguard". His name had hardly formed on her lips, when the man rushed forward, and slapped her across the face hard. While she tried to get over that shock, Kirkland leaned threateningly over her.

"You're lucky I don't strangle you right where you're sitting you stupid wench. Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

Rebecca was baffled beyond belief, now wondering if some kind of drug had found its' way into the last bit water she'd accepted. This couldn't actually be real.

"I'm sorry." His follow-up whisper was so soft that she hardly heard him. "Play along with me."

_Play along with...oh brother; he's got to have some kind of strategy here. I don't know how you found me Ryan, but I hope you know what you're doing._

"I _warned _you about running, and now you're going to pay the price girly!" Ryan bellowed openly.

Two pairs of arms jerked the normally gentlemanly character away from her, and Rebecca forced a terrified expression to remain on her face. She jerked her bound legs closer to the wall, intentionally cowering in a way that she hadn't let the natives see.

"If you try to harm our treasure again, you will end up just like her," Sekayi warned behind Kirkland.

Ryan made a show of scowling. "That wasn't the agreement. You promised that-"

"We have no agreement yet, not until your half of the bargain is produced. Until such time, you will be granted no freedom. If you would like to tell us where the other is, our partnership will be complete," Sekayi interrupted.

"That's not happening," Ryan snapped. "You have all the power in this situation. I'm not about to reveal the only card I have left in play."

"Then you have chosen for us," Sekayi replied, and motioned to the men behind him.

Before Rebecca could blink, the men already gripping Ryan held him down on the floor, so someone else could bind him.

"I have a feeling that you will see things our way Mr. Kirkland. We have no desire to hurt you, but you will not leave this place until you talk. You can enjoy being a prisoner along with your _own_ captive."

Ryan swore strongly as they flattened him on the rough floor. Rebecca had a hard time not blushing at the curses that sounded so strange coming from the grey-haired gentleman. "If this is how you treat a partner, you're not getting a thing out of me!"

"We will see where you stand on the matter, when you've had time to think it over," Sekayi said calmly, and then turned to give instructions to the others. "_Leave him to consider his options, and withhold food for today. We have much to discuss_."

Rebecca shook her head as the strange scene came to a close, and the natives left the one-room dwelling. They'd hardly walked out the door, before the young woman spoke softly in Ryan's direction.

"Oh my word Ryan, what the heck?"

"Sorry for the roughness Miss Tompkins, I had to back up my story. We couldn't be sure if you were here or not. You're all right, they haven't hurt you?"

"No, they just want to hand me over to the rebels! Who else is nearby? What's going on?"

"We found your original camping site, the others are-"

A sob interrupted before he could finish. "Is Mike okay?"

"He's getting the attention he needs; don't fear for him Miss Tompkins."

The sob turned into real tears, as Rebecca broke down completely.

"I'm sorry it took so long - we had complications in finding you," Ryan said quietly, as if ashamed.

Rebecca sniffed hard before she could speak again. "I can't believe you joined them...That you went through all of this, just to find me. I'm overwhelmed, and honestly blown away. Besides my immediate family, no one's ever cared much about what happened to _me_."

"I can't take the credit for it Miss Rebecca; I wouldn't have gotten this far without the turtles. They deserve all your gratitude."

"What's the plan here Mr. Kirkland?"

"The plan?" he repeated awkwardly. "The plan is...well, it's in progress. I've done something kind of drastic that the others didn't agree with."

That statement made Rebecca very nervous. "Be straight with me."

"I suggested that I might approach the settlement, to find out if you were here. The others were against me revealing myself to them. I waited for an opportunity, and simply slipped away."

"Oh _Ryan_..."

"I thought it was better to risk my skin than theirs. These men might have me, but the others are still free to act. My thought was to make them believe I have access to Marcus, just to peak their interest into working with me. Obviously, they're making some kind of effort to break me."

"I appreciate your zeal Mr. Kirkland, but what's going to happen now? You've essentially handed yourself over to them."

"I didn't say it was the smartest alternative." Kirkland smiled inexplicably. "But we're not in this alone - don't forget that. I brought some insurance with me, to make certain that they'd find us."

The man struggled to show her the watch underneath the bindings on his wrists. "It has a homing beacon; one of the turtles explained it to me last night. I already activated the device, the moment I confirmed that you were here."

Rebecca closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "We may have a couple of allies on this side too, if we dare trust them. These people aren't outright evil Mr. Kirkland, they're just desperate. The FDLR has such a strong grip on their food supply; they're constantly on the verge of starvation. I don't think they actually want to go through with this, at least not all of them. But the ones in true power seem to be willing to take the chance of the rebels honoring their agreement."

"That seems rather unlikely. So we're being held hostage by an enemy, who doesn't technically want to be our enemy?"

"According to one of their women."

"But do you believe we could really trust her?"

"I don't know what to believe; I only just met her. The thing that makes me more likely to trust her is that she has no reason to manipulate me. They don't need anything from me except for my presence, and they already have that. There wouldn't be any sense in lying to me, or offering to help."

Ryan opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again when their door shifted. Nandi came inside, and her dark eyes rested on Kirkland with stern suspicion. The African woman stepped over Ryan with a strong display of disdain.

"_Are you alright young lady_?" Nandi asked her.

"_I'm fine Nandi_," Rebecca assured her, heart racing as she considered being completely honest with her about everything.

Nandi shot Kirkland another look, and then glanced back at Rebecca. "_We are ready to put our own necks on the line for you. I have agreement from a few others to at least try_."

"_But what will happen to all of you for helping me_?" Rebecca had to know.

"_That is not for you to worry about_," the woman replied.

"_Perhaps there is a way you can help us, without implicating yourself in the process_," Rebecca suggested.

"_Us? You are not concerned with us delivering this mercenary too, are you_?"

"Miss Rebecca, I think you should consider telling her I don't mean you any harm," Ryan offered.

"This man is _with _you?" Nandi exclaimed.

"How many of you people speak English?" Ryan seemed utterly flustered.

"Wait, then you knew what you were walking into?" Nandi was confused herself.

"I came to find Miss Tompkins, regardless of what happened to me."

"But how are you supposed to help her _now_?" Nandi asked in exasperation.

"I'm not alone," he answered. "And I'd rather not see your people get hurt, or any of you get in trouble because of us escaping. If we put our heads together, maybe we can come up with something."


	69. Plans & Second Thoughts

A low growl rumbled in Raphael's throat, as he ducked closer to the ground beside Leonardo in the shadows of the trees. "Of all the dumb things he coulda done, this has to take the award."

"No one's disagreeing with you Raph, but you _still_ have to keep it down," Leonardo hissed.

"This can't actually be that hard Fearless; I say we just go in there right now and get him. It doesn't even look like these jokers carry guns."

"Guns or not, we don't know what we're walking into, and we shouldn't be revealing ourselves to just anyone. We can't forget that we're supposed to operate invisibly Raph. I won't agree to running straight in there," Leonardo said, using the firm tone that usually made Raphael only want to buck him more.

The red-masked turtle rolled his eyes, but decided not to argue the point. "So what are we gonna do Leo? Besides sittin' on our shells doing nothing, what are we accomplishing here?_ You _got any insight on that Donny?"

"And you still wonder why we don't like bringing you out on surveillance Raph?" Donatello asked from his other side, and suddenly jolted so hard that he accidentally bumped into him.

"Problem Genius?"

"Sorry Raph, it's the phone." Donatello jerked the vibrating device off his belt. "Hello?..._Ryan_? What on earth...But how...Well, I'm glad you found her, but now you're a captive too! What were you thinking? How did you-"

Before Donny could get another word out, Raphael snatched the phone from of his hand.

"You giant bonehead! When we get you back, I'm gonna kill you!" Raphael declared.

"If that's the case, why not let_ them _do it?" Ryan replied.

"'Cause it's not as satisfying, that's why! Darn it Ryan, we _told_ you this was a bad idea! Why'd you have to go and make everything more complicated than it was?" Raphael barely paused long enough in his tirade for something else to occur to him. "Wait a second. If you're a prisoner, how the shell did you get access to the phone?"

"I was just about to explain that to your brother Raphael. We have allies inside the settlement - these people aren't interested in killing us outright. The leaders have every intention of turning Rebecca over to the rebels, but many don't agree with that move either. One of the women has been communicating with Rebecca, trying to arrange a way to spirit her out of here. She's the one who smuggled the phone back in to me. We're going through the possibilities of getting us out of here, without getting any of them in trouble for it in the process."

Raphael didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. "Then you're talking to the wrong turtle."

Raphael handed the phone to Leonardo without another word, and glanced back at Donatello. "Of all the weird junk we could 'ave walked into..."

At the purple-masked turtle's dirty look, Raphael shrugged. "Sorry Don, it's not always fun to do all the listening."

"What did he say about the phone Raph?"

"Some chick got it for him, he said not everyone's against them in there," Raphael said quickly, and then held up a hand to silence any further questions for the moment. He wanted to at least hear Leonardo's half of the conversation.

"...hm...that does change things...If you've already laid that groundwork, you probably shouldn't deviate from it...I'll have to talk to the others about that part, but...That's it Ryan. Yeah, we'll go with it, we can make it work...No, don't worry about that. We can track your progress through the beacon, so we'd already know when you were coming...Are you sure you can...okay. We'll keep an eye out. Be sure you make the most of this."

Leonardo hung up the phone, and exhaled sharply. "Ryan's pretty sure he can lure them into bringing him and Rebecca out here. He told them he's got Marc stashed away somewhere, and that both him and Rebecca are worth more to the rebels together."

"Out where Leo?" Raphael spoke up.

"Where we found Mikey. You and Doc are going to have to keep an eye on the scanner Donny, there's no telling when things will set into motion on their side. We have to make sure we're charting his location."

"What's the plan here Leo? We gonna boost them in transit?" Raphael suggested.

"I'm hoping that it won't come to hurting anyone," Leonardo said thoughtfully.

"_That's_ what you're worried about Fearless?" Raphael was incredulous.

"We could easily lay into these guys Raph, but I'd rather not have to. We need to talk about this further, but not here," Leonardo finished, and motioned to him and Donatello to follow him.

* * *

Michelangelo had been staring into space for so long, he felt like he was frozen in that position. He'd continued to feel uncomfortably warm, but Luke had assured him that his fever was going down. The orange-masked turtle still rejected food altogether. It didn't feel like he could keep anything down, and it didn't seem important in light of other things. His mind had been spinning, both with the question of _when_his brothers would find Rebecca, and what would happen when they did.

_Shell, everything happened so fast. It was just a dream at first, and I didn't see it coming true. I spent so much time fantasizing what it could be like, that I didn't think this through. What's gonna happen when we get back to the States? New York isn't what she wants. The noise, the crowds, the whole urban setting doesn't do anything for Rebecca, April said it herself. The city was only supposed to be her launching pad, for where she wanted to end up. Congo's where she comes alive, doing what she really wants to do. She cares about these people; she understands what they're facing. _

_If Becky gets sucked into our world, what then? I know exactly what'll happen, I've seen it half a dozen times already. Why didn't I think about this before?_

Michelangelo released a trembling sigh, and Luke instantly came to his side.

"Are you okay Mike?"

_Perfect. Never been better. _"Why are you hovering over me like some mother hen Doc? You said the fever's getting better."

"No, it is, I'm just..." the man faltered, leaning back on his knees. "We won't know for sure if you've had Yellow Fever, not until we can complete the blood test at home. I'm feeling a little paranoid, because..."

"Because why Doc?"

"There can be a second phase of the virus, which is more dangerous than the first. A lot of people never go through the next stage, and I'm not assuming that you will. I just want to stay on top of what's happening physically, and I want to get you home already."

"I wanna go home too," Mike mumbled, his mind drifting again._ I've seen the most amazing scenes in my life over the last two weeks. Becky's lived her entire life this way. Do I really expect her to leave that behind, and come stay underground with me? I must have been out of my gourd._

"Can I get you something Mike?" Luke asked. "You're still not interested in eating?"

Michelangelo hated the worry in his voice, even though he knew Luke's heart was in the right place.

_No way food's gonna make me feel better about anything_. "No Doc, I can't stomach it yet. The only thing I want is for Becky and Kirkland to be okay."

"Your brothers will see to that." Luke smiled encouragingly. "You and Rebecca did okay for yourselves out here?"

"Yeah, she knows a lot about this junk." Mike's tone was dismissive, but Luke didn't seem to catch the point.

"She made for a good companion?"

"Yup," Mike said, and quickly shifted the subject. "What about this second phase thingy? Why are you nervous about it?"

Luke hesitated. "In the case that it came back-"

"It can do that?"

"Yes, Yellow Fever can return after a short recovery period. It's more dangerous in that stage, because the virus starts to affect the organs too, like the liver and kidneys."

"But you don't know if that's what I've got."

"Nope, so there's no sense in panicking," Luke said more lightly.

Michelangelo nodded once, and made a show of yawning. "I'm beat Doc. I just wanna get some more sleep."

"Okay. Don't mind if there's an old man checking on you from time to time."

"Who's old?"

"I think this trip aged me about twenty years Mike, between Brandon, losing that scanner, and not finding you. You know_ I'm _the one who dropped that stupid thing? It's my fault you got stuck out here to begin with."

"That's funny Doc. I kinda thought jumping in the flooded river had more to do with that."

"I was careless, _twice_," Luke emphasized. "If I hadn't been carrying mine on my person when we flew into Mbandaka, it couldn't have been confiscated. And like I already said, I was responsible for losing Donny's in the middle of all the turmoil. I'm sorry. You did a lot of suffering in the last couple of days that you shouldn't have had to go through."

"Stuff happens Doc. You know you can't control everything. No one can." _No matter how much you wish you could. What I wouldn't give for a time machine right now. No matter how I look at this, I think she's gonna get hurt._

Blue eyes were incredibly weary. What he wanted more than anything was to go to sleep, and wake up with the answer of the right thing to do.

* * *

"Nandi, they won't hurt them unnecessarily, you have my word on that," Rebecca said slowly.

"Then I will go speak to the elders, and hopefully, they will agree to follow Mr. Kirkland. I can tell you that they will not be happy you were inside the catacombs."

"They don't really believe they're haunted, do they?" Ryan made a face.

"That is not the word they would use. You must understand how heavy our loss was concerning that mountain. The mining had been a successful effort, enough to satisfy the rebels, and provide for some of our own needs. Then the tunnels became unstable, and we lost that entire crew...They were just slaves to the FDLR, but they were our children, our fathers, our brothers."

"But where I broke into, it wasn't part of the mine?" Rebecca verified.

"No, those catacombs were carved out of the rock many years ago, before my time here. It was the burial ground for their people. It is a strange thing that so many others now lay underneath those mines. It became their final resting place, like their fathers before them. It is considered to be an unholy place now, and it has been frowned upon to go there. They will likely be offended that you re-opened the entrance."

"I'm sorry I trespassed, I was only looking for shelter."

"I do not think you dishonored our dead Rebecca - I only hope the others feel the same way. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Rebecca and Kirkland exchanged a glance. "We have to," Rebecca answered. "Ryan's already talked to our friends, and they'll be expecting us. I don't want any of you burning for trying to help us."

"They would not kill us, at least, I do not believe they would," Nandi stumbled.

"It isn't worth the risk, not when we have another option," Ryan said. "But we appreciate your willingness to do the right thing by us."

Nandi shook her head, her expression exceedingly weary. "I do not know how it came to this. We have always been self-sustaining, successful at living off the land. But the soil itself seems to have been cursed. It does not yield the same crops for us now, as it did in years past. I would never have imagined that we would come to cooperate with those murderous thieving rebels. I would rather die myself than give those swine anything they want, and I am not the only one."

Rebecca sighed softly. "I think you're an amazing woman Nandi, for giving up what you did to come here, and being willing to risk it all to help a stranger."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Ryan commented. "The two of you could be kindred spirits, do you realize that?"

"What is he talking about Rebecca?" Nandi asked.

Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It's not about me Mr. Kirkland."

"The young woman that your people have taken captive has given her own life for this country," Ryan told Nandi. "She's left behind everything she could have had too."

"Mr. Kirkland, please? It's not necessary," Rebecca said swiftly.

"Why are you here?" Nandi asked. "Why are the rebels after you?"

"I came along on a mission, in cooperation with the organization 'Doctors without Borders'. The doctor that I traveled with as his translator was kidnapped by the rebels, and they brought me along for the purpose of communication. We managed to escape through the help of friends, but it seems the FDLR was unwilling to let us walk away."

"I will not see those butchers lay one hand on you again," Nandi said sharply. "I guess there is nothing left to do, except to try. Wait for me, I will return soon."


	70. Negotiating

When the natives entered the dwelling, Rebecca sat back and let Ryan do the talking, delivering the story they'd already agreed upon.

"...We holed up right in the middle of that awful storm, took refuge in the only place we could find," Ryan stated.

"You should not have gone to the mountain," Sekayi said sharply. "That land is not suitable to be inhabited by anyone. And you say that the other is still out there, even as we speak?"

"I couldn't risk him escaping too," Ryan said coldly. "I'll take you to him, if you can agree to a partnership, and under one other condition."

"I am listening."

"The girl comes too, or I'm not leading you anywhere. You've already proven what traitors you can be, taking me captive for refusing to give you information. If you think I'm just going to take you to the other half of the fortune without some insurance of my own, you're crazy."

The men lowered their voices somewhat, so that Rebecca wouldn't hear them while Sekayi was translating what Ryan had said. The young woman shifted bound legs nervously as she watched the exchange, and wondered if the gamble would pay off.

_This has to work. C'mon guys, take the bait. Just_ take _it!_

Sekayi shot Ryan a probing glance, and crossed both arms over his chest. "We will accept your proposal, but your own freedom will not be granted, until we can confirm the location of the other prisoner. If you are ready, we would prefer to go at once."

Rebecca was surprised by the insistent note in Sekayi's tone, and couldn't help wondering what his rush was. She clamped her own mouth shut and didn't say anything, as Kirkland agreed to leave immediately. Their wrists were left bound, but their legs were freed so that they would be able to walk. Eight men accompanied them out of the settlement, and into the gathering darkness of the forest.

Sekayi planted himself between Rebecca and Kirkland, and grazed her arm in what almost felt like a protective manner.

_If I didn't know better, I'd think he was trying to keep me safe from Ryan. It could only be his interest in me as their "treasure", but it feels deeper than that for some reason. I could just be imagining it, for how supportive his wife has been._

They were ducking under brush minutes later into their hike, and Rebecca barely had a split second to see a thick branch slashing back toward her face. Even as she started to react, Sekayi darted to catch it.

_This isn't normal behavior for captors. I should know. Nandi said he was in agreement with the plan to turn me over to the rebels, but his actions don't seem to match that thought pattern. Oh, why can't we all be honest with each other?_

The natives traveling with them kept stoic faces as they approached the foothills of the mountains, but Rebecca could read from their posture that they weren't happy to be here. Sekayi walked with Rebecca and Kirkland at the front of the pack, as they made their way around the side of the rock. Rebecca's wistful gaze fell on the surrounding landscape, as she wondered where the others would be waiting, and what they were going to do to get her and Ryan away from these men.

Rebecca continued allowing Ryan to take the lead in guiding the "expedition" to their campsite, keeping her own mouth shut as any "mercenary" would have expected her to. Kirkland was casting her threatening looks every so often, and she acted appropriately wary of him. She fought from trembling openly as they approached the crevice she'd discovered that stormy day, and her heart beat faster as they came near the opening.

Nothing looked outwardly different in the light of their torches, with the exception of the missing wooden planks that had been boarding up the entrance.

Sekayi shook his head sadly. "You should not have come here. This place ought to not be disturbed."

"We've already disturbed it, and if you want my other man, you've got to go in," Ryan said flatly. "I took him deeper inside - I didn't want anyone or anything getting too curious about him. I'm not interested in losing my entire meal-ticket."

A look that vaguely resembled disgust passed from Sekayi to Ryan, as he set his jaw tensely. "I certainly hope he is none the worse for having been left behind by you."

"I had no intention of leaving him that long! You're the ones who had to take me captive!" Kirkland shot back.

"Silence!" Sekayi snapped. "I want not another word from you. Just take us to him, and make it quick."

With four of the men bearing torches to light their way, Ryan led them into the mouth of the catacombs. Gone were any signs of Rebecca and Mike's presence, as if the entire scene had been nothing more than a dream. Anxiety coursed through her bloodstream like a rocket, as her desire to see the orange-masked turtle increased ten-fold.

Ryan was leading them much deeper into the tunnel than she'd ever considered venturing. Rebecca caught herself holding her breath, without any idea of what to expect. She had strong memories of the way Michelangelo had fought to get her away from the rebels on their escape attempt, and hoped the same amount of force wouldn't be used on these strangers.

_They're not like that you idiot. They respect life, remember?_

Rebecca resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, and kept her eyes continually forward. The sound of someone's gasp from behind was what finally drew her attention back. She whirled in time to see one of the torch-bearers staggering, his flame now extinguished. She heard the breath of air from an object in flight, and flattened against the side of the tunnel as another projectile made contact with Sekayi's torch-bearing arm. The spray of water that ensured from the contact was large enough to graze her upper body, even standing a couple of feet away from the man.

Rebecca clung to the rock itself, as the other torches were extinguished almost as quickly as the first two, casting darkness over the group. She heard shouts, but couldn't see what might be happening. Rebecca sensed movement in the darkness, and fought down the instinctive panic that the blindness was inducing.

A beam of light cut through the blackness, and with surprise she laid eyes on a cloaked figure-no,_ two _figures in front of the group. Features were impossible to make out, but the build of the strangers instantly gave away to Rebecca who they were. Another small light ignited _behind_ the group, and another two figures appeared. One was certainly a turtle, but the other was taller, built differently. In the low light in front of them, the gleam of twin blades was revealed.

"We don't want to hurt you," one of the turtle's voices said coolly. "We're giving you a chance to let your captives go free, but _only _the one. You can walk away without a single scratch, if you release them without a fight. Are you able to relay that for me Rebecca?"

"There is no need," Sekayi spoke up stiffly. "I can understand you. I will tell my brothers what you have said, but first, tell me what you want with them."

"Our only desire is to set them free - we have no wish to harm anyone. Please don't force our hands," the figure with the long blades returned.

Rebecca remembered that voice - it was the same one that had ordered them into action the night of their escape from the rebels.

"Perhaps this is not the place to have this discussion?" Sekayi suggested.

"It's where we're having it. Either release them, or face us. That's your choice, and you'd better hurry up and make it."

Sekayi turned to interpret the information for the other natives, who were huddled as closely together as possible with their make-shift spears, still unaware of what was going on. Another of the elders ventured to join Sekayi, peering into the darkness as if trying to get a good look at the strangers. Rebecca saw Sekayi square his shoulders, forcing strength back into them.

"We are willing to consider your proposition, but how do we know what your intentions with this young woman are?"

"We don't seek her for any type of reward, as your people have," the turtle said disdainfully. "We've crossed a great distance to find her, and we've come too far to watch her be betrayed back to the men who started all this."

"And yet you would seek for us to release the mercenary too? He would harm her far more than we have."

"No, he wouldn't," Rebecca spoke up at last. "He's not a mercenary, he's a bodyguard, _my_ bodyguard. He only said those things to get you to bring us out here."

"Then there's no other captive?" Sekayi shot Ryan another suspicious look.

"None," Kirkland replied. "I had to find out if you had Rebecca, and another bribe seemed to be the only way to get a straight answer."

"We don't believe your people to be evil, so we thought we'd try to persuade you first, before taking arms against you. Will you let our friends go peaceably?" the turtle with the swords continued.

Sekayi whispered with the other elder for a few seconds, and then took a single step forward. "Our lives for theirs. It is an honorable charge you have laid to us, offering the opportunity to release them without violence. We accept your proposal, and ask only to leave unharmed, as you promised."

"Remove their bonds, and start walking. Follow the light behind you, do not deviate from it, and you'll be spared," the turtle replied.

Rebecca's eyes roved over the cloaked forms hoping they wouldn't reveal themselves, but she needn't have worried. The turtles had an easy time hiding their differences under the cover of darkness, and didn't let any of the natives get close enough to realize that there was anything unusual about them.

As they approached the entrance of the catacombs, the turtles remained back in the shadows, while the taller figure accompanied the others outside.

"Go back to your village, and forget that you saw this woman. When the rebels arrive-"

"They will not come," Sekayi interrupted. "We did not send the message. We had not worked up the will to condemn her yet. Our people were led to believe otherwise, but among ourselves, we could not agree to it either. There is no honor in betraying an innocent life, not even if it could end up benefiting the rest of us. The FDLR is not known for keeping their agreements, and we will be no worse off than we were before. Please tell the lady that we are sorry for this hurt that was committed."

Rebecca slowly walked outside to face the group. "_Thank you for not contacting them. I can understand how strong the temptation would have been, and appreciate that you did not go through with it."_

The woman hesitated, and then plunged ahead once more. "_Your situation with your farm land has been explained to me, and I'd like to take a sample home with me_."

"_I do not understand_," Sekayi said plainly. "_What will you do with our soil_?"

"_Find out if there's a way to rejuvenate it, and bring your fields back to life. I swear, you haven't heard the last from me_," Rebecca answered.

* * *

***Not the resolution you expected? I didn't either, at first. But I think it's a nice reminder that violence is a last resort, and that everything doesn't have to automatically be a battle. Just because you can fight someone, doesn't mean you should. Believe it or not, we still have a few chapters to go, some of which could be a bit frustrating. Mikey has to share some blame for that...but he'll learn.**


	71. Hiding

***Exactly ten chapters to go, and you lovely readers have helped me reach a new milestone. At one point I dreamed I might break 200 reviews with this fic, and ya'll made it happen. It's impossible to say how much that kind of support/love/input is appreciated as an Author. I feel as if I need to do something special for the occasion, but I haven't decided what yet. I _could_ release a small preview of Redemption, but it would probably only make you want to kill me. I'm about a third of the way into my follow-up fic that will feature the Akiudo once more, along with the expected complications. C'mon, this is _me_ we're talking about. I'll have to give this some thought. In the meantime...pretty please enjoy the rest of Unbreakable. One more trial to get through.**

* * *

To Michelangelo, being forced to stay back in one of the Jeeps with Luke while the action was going on was the definition of cruel and unusual punishment. Waiting in silence and unknowing felt almost unbearable to the turtle, but he couldn't have escaped the car, even if he _hadn't _been ordered not to move. He barely had the energy to sit up against the seat, let alone run after his brothers to join whatever plan they were implementing with Greg.

Mike blew out a noisy breath of irritation. "_How_ long did you say I'm gonna feel like this Doc?"

"For the fifth time Mike, I really don't know. I wish I could give you some clue, but I don't have one myself. It would definitely help if you'd _eat_ something."

Michelangelo gave the man a small shrug, and then glanced to his right. He heard something approaching. It sounded like feet running, heedless of the disturbance they could be making through the surrounding trees. He saw his brothers' familiar shadows as they made it to the road first, but felt that they _couldn't_ have been the source of all that noise. Mike craned his neck to see another small figure come out behind them, and nearly turned into a blur as she raced toward the vehicles.

Luke jumped out to meet the other turtles as the woman approached, and Mike fought his way further upright. It sounded like Rebecca was already crying before she embraced him, like there was no power on earth that could have held her back. The young woman clutched at his shell, though she couldn't get her arms completely around him. The weight of her frame shuddering against him only made the turtle want to kiss her _more_.

"I'm sorry I had to leave Mike, I didn't mean to get caught, I wasn't paying enough attention, it was my own stupid fault!"

The continuous babble had to be the fastest speech he'd ever heard come out of her mouth, and he wanted to cut if off before it went any further.

"Stop, hold on. I'm okay Beck. You're only one person, and you did more for me than I coulda asked. It wasn't your fault you got caught; you were too busy trying to be _my_ hero."

He at least got a smile out of her, that was so honest in its' relief that Mike's resolve nearly broke wide open.

"You're not hurt?" he asked her.

"No, I'm fine. They threatened to get a lot rougher than they ever did Mike. I can't hold this against them, they're under tremendous pressure to produce food for the rebels. The demands on them have continued increasing, even as the condition of the soil worsened. Your brothers were very lenient with them," Rebecca said with a tinge of awe.

"It's our philosophy Becky, or at least it's supposed to be. Don't fight unless you've got no other choice."

"I owe the four of you everything. Between being taken by the rebels and being stranded with you, these last few weeks have been...surprising, to say the least."

Michelangelo caught himself from brushing a curl off her forehead, and cast a worried glance in the direction of his brothers. They were still gathered in a semi-circle with the other men, either catching up, or discussing further plans. He couldn't hear them from the car, and he didn't care either. When he looked back at Becky, he found her staring thoughtfully at him.

"Maybe...maybe we shouldn't say anything yet," she faltered, as if sensing his restraint. "I mean, your family doesn't know me, and that's the most important thing in your life. Could we give them a little time to get used to me, before we tell them?"

Michelangelo nodded dully, as the numb sensation took further hold.

_Aw Becky, they'd be used to you in about thirty seconds. I can't risk saying something though, not when I don't know what's gonna happen. There's not going to be much time to think this through, I guess I should get cracking._

The group split up between the two Jeeps. They were a few minutes away from where they'd all reconvened, before Mike reached for Leonardo's arm.

"So what's the deal here Fearless? Have we got a plan for getting home?"

"We do Mike. No one is interested in driving back through the Kivu region again, not now that we've finally got everybody. There's a city a few miles southwest of here, that's supposed to have a runway. Heff needs to set up an airlift back to Beni, so he can pick up Tim and the Gulfstream."

"You may refer to Lola by her proper name Leonardo," Greg couldn't resist adding from the driver's seat.

"Even if Mikey agreed with it right now, that vote still wouldn't come close to passing," Leonardo objected.

"What are you _talking_ about?" The orange-masked turtle cast a confused glance between his oldest brother and Greg.

"Nothing that's going to stick Mike, so it doesn't really matter." The blue-masked turtle affectionately patted his shoulder, and swung around in his seat so that he'd be facing him.

Michelangelo saw the glance Leonardo gave Rebecca, who was passed out asleep on the seat across from him.

"She's been through a lot," Mike said. "I'm just glad she can finally _rest_."

"You both went through a lot," Leonardo added morosely. "It was rotten, not being able to find you. Then those last couple days, when we could see how sick you were getting..."

Michelangelo winced at the tremor in his brother's voice. "I'm sorry Leo. It was my fault, my stupid idea that landed us all the way out here."

"You did what you had to in order to escape. Stop apologizing for it. You kept each other alive, so that's pretty much a success."

"That river was _intense_ Leo, like nothing I've ever felt. There were a couple of times, I didn't know if I could keep going. But there was no giving up, not with having to get Becky out of it too."

The way Leonardo rested both arms on the seat back that divided them made the elder's recent stitches catch Mike's eye. "Did you get into a cat-fight too Leo?"

Leonardo made a face that Mike couldn't really decipher. "No. Donny and I got caught in a mortar round. If you want to talk about the real failure of that venture, you're looking at him at him, Mike. Donny was injured too, but still managed to haul my shell all over creation."

Mike leaned back more heavily against his seat, hating the lingering dizziness that made it hard to sit up for a long period of time. "Geesh," he mumbled. "I missed a lot."

"You had your own set of problems to deal with. We were just waiting and recovering for the most part."

"We waited too, for the first few days. Figured it'd be easier for you to find us if we stayed put."

"That would have been the perfect thing to do, if we'd had the scanner to begin with," Leonardo said ruefully. "But I guess there's no sense dwelling on what we couldn't do. I'm glad you're okay Mikey, but I had a feeling all along that you guys would be able to make it."

Leonardo cast a second longer glance at Rebecca. "Have we got another life-long friend out of this?"

"She'd make a great one Leo, but I don't know," Mike said very softly. "This isn't some hobby to her y'know; Congo is her home. Or at least, she wants it to be. I think you can tell how much these people mean to her, and that work isn't finished."

Michelangelo intentionally kept his eyes forward, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I'm tired, I think I'm gonna join her. Wake me up if anything important happens, okay?"

"Yeah Mike, it's better for you to be resting anyway. G'night."

* * *

Donatello noticed the difference in his brother's behavior over the last few hours they spent in the Congo, but decided that there wasn't anything particularly unusual about it. The orange-masked turtle had been through a tremendous physical ordeal, and neither he nor Luke expected Mike to bounce right back from it. Mike and Rebecca weren't talking very much, though the young woman never seemed to be far from a smile.

They were presently within minutes of landing in London, where they would be re-fueling for the dual purpose of also dropping Ryan off at home. The purple-masked turtle had spent most of the flight time in the cockpit with Greg, but now settled into a regular seat to discuss his findings on the soil sample he'd examined for Rebecca.

"The earth possesses a limited amount of nutrients Rebecca," he explained. "It isn't possible to continue stripping the soil of all its' minerals, without reducing its' fertility. It could be that something as simple as adding a fertilizing element, would get them back into full productivity. I did some searching on the internet, and this issue isn't limited to this particular tribe. There's a large amount of soil degradation that's taken place in the DRC in the last few years, partially due to deforestation, and partially because the earth isn't being replenished of everything that's coming out of it. Whether the answer lies in new farming practices, or simply _providing_ them with the means necessary to rejuvenate the soil, it doesn't seem like it's a lost cause."

"A combination of _both _is probably the real answer," Rebecca stated. "They need guidance, not just organizations like the UN trying to keep peace between the army and the rebels. It's a good land Donatello, with conditions that are perfect for growing so many different crops. The temperature stays pretty constant because of their vicinity to the equator, which means their growing season is longer. It seems like another approach to the usual 'aid' is necessary: one that would not only help supply them for the immediate time being, but that would teach them how to change the course of their own future."

Even though Rebecca sounded like she was talking to Donatello, her gaze was fixed somewhere else, as if she was trying to see the solution right in front of her.

"It sounds like a worthwhile venture. Is there anyone currently working on something like it?" Donatello asked.

"You can bet I'm going to find out," Rebecca replied, flashing the purple-masked turtle another shy smile. "Thanks for your input - I have a feeling I'm going to have more questions for you."

"And I'll try to help you find the answers," Donatello agreed, and then glanced at Michelangelo.

The orange-masked turtle looked attentive, but didn't appear to have anything to add to what they'd been discussing.

"Are you getting hungry at all Mike?"

"I'm okay Donny, honest. You don't have to keep trying to shove food down my throat," he added impishly.

"I don't normally have to," Donatello commented, and was startled when Rebecca laughed more loudly than he expected.

"Isn't that the truth?" she exclaimed.

"Hey, I'm a growing turtle, and I require my five square meals a day." Michelangelo gave them a small grin, and Donatello reached across the seat to squeeze his arm.

"Just wait 'til we get home Mikey."

Their descent over the new city came sooner than Donatello felt it should have, and he cast the grey-haired gentleman sitting a couple rows ahead of them a wistful glance. No one said anything until they were on the ground.

"Well, this has been far and away the most incredible experience of my life, and that's saying _a lot_," Ryan announced. "It's been an absolute honor to meet all of you, and if I live for another fifty years, I'm certain that I still wouldn't be able to forget you." The man let out a shaky sigh, as his shoulders slumped. "I didn't expect it to be this hard. I suppose it doesn't have to be forever."

"Look us up if you're ever in New York," Leonardo offered. "And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call either. You know how to reach us. It's been a real privilege knowing you too."

Rebecca was on her feet a couple of seconds later, and wrapped both arms around the Brit. "I know you don't hug a lot where you come from Mr. Kirkland, but it only feels appropriate. Thank you so much for everything. You went above and beyond the call of your duty for me."

"Not in my mind Miss Tompkins. You watch your step now, and take a break from that rainforest for awhile, will you?"

"I'm definitely ready for a little civilization. I don't suppose I should look you up for any future missions into the bush?"

"I'd be heartbroken if you didn't." Ryan smiled. "Thank you kindly for getting me back where I belong, and for not killing a stubborn old fool for his curiosity to begin with."

"If there's one thing we've learned over the years, it's that a lot of things happen for a reason," Leonardo responded. "You'll always be one of us Ryan - don't forget that."

The man gave the turtle an almost formal bow. "That's an honor I won't take lightly. Get yourselves home safely now. I imagine your city could be missing its heroes."


	72. Excuses

Landing in the United States hours later created an incredible sense of anticipation within Rebecca, that she couldn't really explain. She and Michelangelo had _both _been carefully holding back, hiding that there was anything going on between them. Now Rebecca regretted suggesting it, because of how far the turtle seemed to have removed himself. She had convinced herself that it had to do with Mike not feeling well, rather than taking it as a personal affront. Rebecca was trying not to read into things that hadn't actually been said, but she couldn't escape the feeling that Michelangelo was troubled.

Rebecca had committed herself to making some kind of move when they landed, and that meant that all these questions would soon be nothing more than a memory. She guessed that it was the real reason she was grateful to be back on US soil. They'd stayed over in Europe long enough to assure that their own arrival in the States would coincide with darkness that had long fallen there

Greg pulled the plane into the safety of a hangar, and Rebecca quietly held back until last, after the others had gotten off the Gulfstream. She observed the scene from the stairs for a few seconds longer, a bittersweet smile rising to her features. The sounds of happy reunions echoed across the entire space, seeming to fill every nook and cranny. She found herself trying to watch everything at once, and stayed rooted to that spot until April called her name.

Rebecca barely had her feet on the ground, before the woman had swept over to meet her with Marc on her heels. The red-head beamed as she welcomed her home, embracing her with all the warmth that the younger woman could have craved to be greeted with.

"I knew the two of you would turn back up!" April exclaimed happily. "Have you had enough of the outdoors to last you awhile?"

"Awhile," Rebecca agreed dryly. "It's really good to see you April."

Rebecca turned to Marcus, meeting the man's dark eyes mutely for a couple of seconds before he hugged her. Tears came unbidden with the contact, both out of pure relief, and the sense of love that she received from both of them.

"I don't know if I would have made it those last couple of days without you Becky," Marcus told her. "I'm glad you're home...and I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm sorry the Congo didn't treat you better on your first trip there Marc. I hope it won't prevent you from trying something like it again in the future. You're good at what you do," Rebecca said seriously.

"I'm not writing anything off yet," he replied.

Rebecca took the time to admire Luke's baby girl and meet his wife, then was called to meet the other young women who were nearby. A sense of overbearing awkwardness rose to the surface at the mere sight of them, and it was all Rebecca could do to stand still while introductions were being made.

_They're beautiful, every last one of them, and they're so comfortable with showing affection. You really wouldn't know that there were any differences between the turtles and them. I hope Mike and I can be that relaxed in front of everyone. I think I may still be at a disadvantage in some ways, but it feels like that's going to matter less and less. I'll get over this stupidity eventually - they're not judging me._

As her gaze shifted, she caught sight of Michelangelo leaning against the side of the building, conspicuously apart from the others. Without hesitation she started toward him. "Can I talk to you?"

"We'd better." He sounded a little hoarse, almost as if he was losing his voice. "Somewhere else, okay?"

The orange-masked turtle peered out of the hangar, and then motioned her into the shadows around the side of it. The heavy gait he walked with still proved how weak he was feeling, and Rebecca urged him to sit down as soon as he could. She let out a deep breath as they both leaned their backs against the hangar, and lowered to the ground.

"Where are we at Mike? What happens next?"

He let out a tremendous sigh of his own, as if he'd been holding it in forever. "This is the best time to do this. I'm sorry, I know I've been weird the last couple of days."

"You're not feeling great."

"It's more than that Becky. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I don't think...I can't do this to you."

She didn't have a suitable reply for that immediately. Rebecca pausing for a long moment before words came. "What are you talking about? You can't do _what_ to me Mike?"

"It isn't right for me to try and hold onto it, not when it isn't..."

Rebecca hated the fact that he was hesitating. "What are you trying to say? In plain words, tell me what's wrong."

"You're one of the most amazing people I've ever met, and these last few days were...They were an incredible experience, in spite of everything."

"But?" Rebecca sensed the word coming.

"But I think I got carried away in the moment, and stopping thinking entirely. I don't think it was real. I'm sorry Becky."

The young woman shook her head in disbelief. "You don't mean that. Why are you saying these things? Why are you pushing me away _now_?"

"You saw my brothers Rebecca. They're happy and fulfilled, in a way they don't think I can be. I wanted to give this a shot, but I can't go into it just so I don't have to be alone. You deserve better than that, a chance at_ real _love. You deserve a lot more than I can give you."

"Are you saying that you honestly don't have any feelings for me?"

"I'm saying that this won't work, not as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to risk hurting you worse by dragging it out. I'm sorry I let it go that far Rebecca - I really am._ You're _not the issue here; I'm the one who can't go through with it."

"You can't, or you _won't_?" Rebecca asked pointedly.

Michelangelo didn't respond, and she forced her legs up underneath her.

"You might want to try and figure that out Mike. You'll be pretty confused if you can't get your excuses straight."

The young woman readjusted the familiar backpack that she was thoroughly sick of carrying around. "I'm not going to stand here, and try to argue about how you feel. Only you can answer that. But I _don't_ buy that it wasn't real Mike - I'm not an idiot, and you're a terrible liar. At the same time, you have a will of your own, and I'm not about to force myself on you. Please thank the others for me again. It'd be more appropriate to do it myself, but all things considered, I've intruded long enough."

"Becky, you're not intruding. I didn't mean you had t-"

"If you think I'm capable of hanging around here and continuing to pretend that there was nothing between us, you're sadly mistaken. No, it's better that I go. We made it out alive, and I guess that's the important thing. Goodbye Michelangelo."

* * *

"Wait a minute, she's _gone_?" Raphael demanded. "Just like that, she disappears?"

"I told you it wasn't like that Raph, it's a lot more complicated," Mike said in frustration. "This isn't where she belongs, and it's easier to go now, before it gets any harder to leave."

Inwardly he wanted to claw his eyes out, but on the exterior he was fighting tooth and nail to hold it together. They would expect him to be a little sad that she was gone, but he couldn't allow his reaction to be too over the top. The guilt weighing on his shoulders was so tangible, he could swear it was physically affecting him, but there was no other choice. Giving her freedom while she still had a chance of running with it seemed like the only thing he _could_ do. That didn't mean he felt good about lying to her, or to his family by default of not saying anything.

"I don't understand Mike," Donny said quietly. "On the plane, Rebecca said we had more to talk about. She was acting like she was going to be around. Did she give you any explanation for leaving?"

"I need you guys to accept that she's not at fault for anything, and just drop it," Mike replied. "It's hard to see her go, but it was going to happen either way. She's got a calling, and it has nothing to do with New York."

His purple-masked brother laced an arm around Mike's shell as his weight faltered. "Are you okay Mikey?"

"I just wanna go home."

* * *

The orange-masked turtle wanted nothing more than to run straight to his room, but he didn't have the energy to climb the stairs, and Donny and the docs weren't letting him out of sight that easily. Luke started a full-blown blood work up the instant they had him in the Lab, while Donatello began setting up one of the IV machines.

"What's that thing for Donny? You got me rehydrated or whatever, right?"

"Mike, you lost some significant weight through all this, and you still don't have your appetite back. I want to replace some nutrients, and this way, I won't have to keep bugging you about eating until you're actually up to it."

Michelangelo didn't argue for a change - he didn't resist a single thing they were trying to do for him in the following hour. From experience he knew that it would only cause them to delve deeper. He just wanted them to finish, and leave him the heck alone for awhile. Michelangelo lapsed into silence as they worked, not saying anything unless one of them asked a specific question.

"I hope you don't take her leaving personally Mike," Marcus told him. "Rebecca doesn't exactly let people close to her. I know she's been hurt a lot, and I think part of her might not know_ how _to rely on anyone, or it could be that she's afraid to."

"Marc, I really don't want to talk about this anymore. She didn't run because of us, she left for a couple of different reasons...things that she couldn't control. Don't blame her, just please let it go. If you guys could like wrap this up soon, I'd appreciate it. I just wanna sleep."

Marc nodded, and bent closer to the turtle's level. "All that traveling probably only exhausted you more. You're going to have to take it easy for awhile yet."

"Story of my life."

"I'm glad you're home Mike."

Michelangelo willingly returned Marc's embrace the best that he could, and breathed a sigh of relief inwardly when it looked like Donny and Luke were actually close to finishing up.

"Are you comfortable?" Donatello asked him.

"Are you kidding with that question bro, after what we've _been_ sleeping on? We're all gonna sleep like babies tonight."

"You're probably right about that," Donatello acknowledged, and Michelangelo saw his brother glance at the other empty bed against the wall.

"_No_ Donny, you're not staying with me tonight. Your shell is sleeping with your wife. Don't get obsessive over this, okay? I'm fine, and I'm not gonna rest well if you guys are hovering. I know you only want to help, but I sort of would rather be left alone."

Donatello's chocolate brown gaze seemed to deepen at those words. "Are you sure you're okay with Rebecca leaving? You don't have to pretend that it doesn't bother you Mikey."

"Donny...it was the right thing for the long run, and that's what I'm trying to think about. It's sad to lose a friend, especially after what we went through together, but it is what it is, right? Isn't that what you and Doc always say?"

Donny smiled faintly, unable to hide the lines of worry etched in his forehead. "Well...I'll be back around to check on you, but I'll try not to make much noise."

Michelangelo nodded, and watched gratefully as they left him to rest in the semi-darkness of the Lab on his own. The orange-masked turtle shifted so that he'd be facing the wall, clenching his eyes shut as the tears he'd been barely containing brimmed to the surface. The overwhelming sadness had been brewing so hard underneath, it felt like it could explode.

_I can't believe I went through with it. I feel like the biggest jerk of all time, but what was I supposed to do? I've seen what happens when you get roped into our world, and by golly, it's not gonna happen to her. I won't let it. She'll get over it, and so will I. Shell, we only knew each other a couple of weeks. You don't throw out a passion like hers' based on something like this. No, it was the right thing to do_, he told himself fiercely, as hot tears spilled over. _Someday, she'd probably thank me for it. I'm just...relieved that this part is over with. It was even harder to do than I imagined it would be._

Michelangelo buried his head in his pillow, fighting to muffle any sounds from coming out. _I'm sorry Becky._


	73. Protection

Brandon had been staying three steps ahead of Karina, for entirely too many strides. The woman finally caught his arm from behind, jerking sharply to get him to stop.

"For _why _do you have to run big brother? Kat's going to be mad enough that I brought you here, instead of taking you straight home after the appointment. If you collapse again-"

"Geesh, a guy passes out one time, and you're never going to let me forget it, are you? I need to see the guys Kari, in person. Now, we're almost there, so can we do a little less talking, a little more walking _por favor_?"

"Just take the speed down a notch, and you won't hear another word out of me."

"How long does that promise extend for?"

Karina's open palm slapped the back of his head faster than he could blink.

"For Pete's sake Kari."

"You're the one who doesn't know when to quit. Let's hurry up - if I get you back fast enough, Kat won't even have to know about this side trip."

"I thought you wanted me to slow down."

"_Cierra la_! Just be glad that I caved Bran."

"I'm confused what you had to cave over. The doctor said I was fine, and my tests are normal. What more do you girls need to hear?"

"A whole lot less from you," she shot back, as they approached the entrance to the Den.

Karina got the door open, and almost walked right into Raphael as she stepped into the hall.

"Hey, that was fast. I didn't expect to see..." Raphael stopped himself when he saw Brandon behind her, and shook his head. "I shoulda figured. What'd you have to promise to get her to bring you here?" The turtle smirked.

"She can't resist me." Brandon grinned in return, right before Karina slapped the back of his head again.

"Just make your rounds buster, I need to get you back to Kat's before she suspects something."

"Are you being held hostage Brandon? I know a few guys that could help you bust out," the red-masked turtle cracked.

"My over-protective sisters are still insisting on holding me hostage, despite the fact that I'm _fine_."

"Yeah, we've got no reason to be concerned, not with you fainting yesterday and everything," Karina added.

"Kari, you heard the doctor a few minutes ago. Nothing abnormal, nothing complicated."

"Kat's not going to be convinced so easily."

"Oh, for crying out loud! Luke's a doctor. Can't_ he _just sign me off and be done with it? Why do you guys have to drag everything out?"

"'Cause they're women Brandon, that's what they do." Raphael snickered, but cut it off at Karina's pointed look. "So, you're fine then? No pain, no lasting issues from any of this?"

"I'm good Raph. The only reason the hospital kept me longer was because of infection. I'm ready to get back in the saddle."

"The whole 'cowboy' analogy would work better if you had something in common with them Bran," Karina told him.

"Hey Kari," Raphael spoke up quickly before Brandon could reply, almost as if he was _intentionally _re-directing the woman. "You might wanna offer your technical help to Leo. He's in the kitchen, said something about using the oven."

"The _oven_? Raph, why didn't you stop him?"

"How's he gonna get better without any experience? The guy has to learn to fend for himself someday, doesn't he?"

"No Raph, he really doesn't." Karina spun around and dashed for the kitchen, as Brandon finally moved to embrace Raphael.

"It's good to see you man." The relief in the turtle's voice was a little overwhelming to hear. "And you're really okay? No pain you ain't telling the girls about?"

"I really am Raph."

"Good, that's great to know. That was something, you grabbing the bull by the horns in that gunfight."

"I didn't think about it Raph, it happened really fast. It wasn't like I-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Raphael's fist crashed into the man's gut, while he looped his free arm around Brandon's shoulder to keep him planted on his feet. He gasped to recover the wind that had been knocked out of him, heaving softly in between the effort to put words together.

"You've _gotta_ be...the only guy I know...who'd slug someone for trying to defend you!"

"Do you have ANY idea what you put me through?" Raphael demanded. "Who gave you the right to do that?"

"Raph, _you_ don't have to question whether or not you'd lay down your life for your brothers. In that instant when I reacted, it was only natural. You guys are family. I wish you wouldn't treat me like some tag-along stepchild, who's not even good enough to fight beside you."

"I never said that Brandon!"

"If I'm welcome to fight at your side, I have to be allowed to die there too. You have a right to protect your family - I like to think I'm allowed to feel the same way."

Raphael growled with what sounded like frustration, fixing him with a dark look.

"It's no different Raph. When it comes down to it, I'd rather die myself than see anything happen to you. I get that you feel the same way. Maybe next time, you'll move a little faster," Brandon finished sardonically, and groaned when the turtle's palm stung the same spot that Karina had already swatted twice. "Why is everyone beating on me today? I'm starting to think I shouldn't have come down here."

Raphael gave him a more serious look, and then embraced the man a second time. "Just so we're clear, I don't want you dying for me Brandon. But I have to appreciate the sentiment."

Brandon shrugged. "I guess we can start there."

"_Raph_!" Leonardo's irritated tone prevented Brandon from expounding any further. "Do you want to tell me why your wife practically tackled me for trying to make a cup of tea?"

"Not really Fearless, no." Raphael chuckled under his breath, and nudged Brandon in the direction of the Lab. "I'm gonna have to deal with this, but I'm sure Mike will want to see you. He might still be sleeping, but don't be afraid to wake him up."

Brandon darted out of the living area before a brotherly mock battle could really heat up, and slipped into Donatello's Lab. The purple-masked turtle glanced over his shoulder, beaming when he saw Brandon.

"Here's a sight for sore eyes. Are you doing all right?" Donatello asked, after hugging him fondly.

"That'll depend on Kari and that red-masked brother of yours. Between the two of 'em, I about have a concussion."

"Raph's had a rough time of it," Donatello said quietly. "He took it really hard Brandon. I know he's happy to see you, even if you can't tell yet."

"What's the deal with Mike?"

"We've tested him for Yellow Fever; the virus stays in the system for several days after the initial symptoms are over. The results will take a couple more days to come back, and in the meantime, we're keeping a close eye on him in case of a relapse. He's still incredibly weak, and doesn't feel that great. He needs rest, and a lot of it."

"I guess you don't need me hanging around, I don't want to be a hindrance."

"He'll be mad if we don't wake him up, and seeing you could help him feel better," Donatello assured him.

Brandon detected the turtle's troubled undertone. "Donny, what's wrong? Luke said you guys have a handle on this physical stuff. Why are you this concerned?"

"He's acting weird," Donatello confessed. "I don't know if it's just the sickness, but I believe this thing with Rebecca has gotten to him too."

"Oh yeah, that sounded a little cold."

"Mike doesn't want to talk about it. Brandon, we've got no idea what happened to them out there, or how it could still be affecting him. I could probably count the number of times he's outright asked me to leave him alone on two hands. He's not letting anyone near him, and it's unnerving me."

"We _don't _know what he went through Donny. It could be that he needs to sort through a couple of things, but this is Mikey we're talking about. He'll bounce back from it, just have patience with him."

"I know you're right, and I'm trying. It's just weird, not being able to engage him. Mike doesn't like to be alone usually, not even when he's sick. But if space is what he needs, he should be allowed to have it," Donny said more quietly. "You go ahead and wake him, and I'll be back in a few minutes."

Brandon dropped into a desk chair as the turtle left, and wheeled it over to Michelangelo's side. He laid a hand on the orange-masked turtle's shoulder, and shook it lightly. Mike grunted something indiscernible, and didn't open his eyes immediately.

"Mike?"

The turtle rolled his neck in the man's direction, opening his eyes at once. "Brandon? Wow, it's you."

"Yeah. Geesh, I feel like I haven't seen you in about a year."

"Yup. Managed to get myself good and lost."

"Hey, at least you didn't get yourself_ shot_," Brandon replied, and the blue eyes facing him registered emotion for the first time since waking up.

"Yeah, I...heard." Mike's voice trembled slightly. "You got to play hero."

Brandon rolled his eyes. "I'm tired of talking about it. How about something else?"

"Seen any good TV lately?" Mike smiled, but it felt forced.

"No, it was pretty hard to focus on entertainment, what with all of you in danger on African soil, ane me stuck in the hospital. _I_ can't even stop talking about it - no wonder no one else can."

"I'm sorry I scared you Brandon, and for everything you went through. Has Raph decided to let you live yet?"

"I think we have an understanding," Brandon replied, tapping both feet on the wheels of his chair absent-mindedly.

"Make sure you get it in writing," Mike advised with a small grin. The smile had hardly grazed his features, before it was suddenly wiped clean.

Brandon stared at the orange-masked turtle unspeaking for a few seconds, discerning what Donatello had already tried to tell him. Mike _wasn't _normal - something was definitely bringing him down, to the point that he didn't even feel comfortable joking around.

"You know you can talk to me about anything Mike," Brandon reminded him. "I'm not saying you have to - just that you can. I don't know what happened out there, or how bad you're still feeling physically, but I can listen, no matter what you have to get off your chest."

Mike's eyes seemed heavier now than they had a few moments before. "Bran, I'm gonna be okay. I'm run down, and I'm stuck in this bed for now, but I'll be all right. As for the rainforest, I don't want to think about it. If or when I'm ready, you'll be one of the first to hear it."

Brandon sighed inwardly, but put on a smile for the turtle. "Have you got everything you need in here? I'm surprised you haven't asked for a TV yet."

"Like there's anything worth watching?" The dull sound of his voice was a hollow shell of the energy it usually held. Michelangelo exhaled softly, and held an arm out toward the man. "I'm glad you're okay Bran. I've got everything I need. Don't take me personally right now. I'm trying to get over this junk, and I haven't been able to shake how tired I am. But I'm home, we're all home, and that's what matters."


	74. Backbone

*** The Hymn "It is Well with my Soul" was written by Horatio Spafford. It seemed very appropriate for Rebecca at a time like this, but as I post this chapter today, it strikes close to home for me as well. Coming up this Sunday is the first anniversary of my Grandfather's death, and it was one of his favorite hymns. My Grandma even had me sing it at his funeral. This chapter is in his memory.**

**

* * *

******

The small apartment that Rebecca shared with another interpreter who worked for the United States Embassy felt like a tomb. She had been holed up alone there for the last five days, ever since getting back into the city, only leaving once in order to pick up some necessities for the fridge. Her thirty-something roommate was on assignment in Europe, and would remain overseas for several weeks yet. The two of them usually lived like two ships crossing in the night anyway, rarely seeing each other for more than a few minutes a day.

_That's because she has a _life, Becky told herself ruefully. _She can't stand being cooped up in this apartment. She likes to be with other living, breathing human beings, and I never made for good company. The only thing we had in common were language skills - and very different ones at that. How many months have we lived here together, and I really tried to get to know her? I don't even know what her middle name is. How did I live this out of it for so long?_

The only thing keeping Rebecca company was her cell-phone, which had never rung this often before. She fielded a couple of calls from the Embassy, but mostly they were TV stations or news outlets, trying to get some comment or interview out of her.

_How'd these people even get my number? It makes me wonder who works for them. I'd bet some of these stations have better detectives than the police._

Rebecca had received a couple of calls from blocked numbers too, and ignored them entirely, only to find out from messages left behind that it had been April or Marcus. She hadn't called them back, and wasn't planning to yet. There was, however, another phone call she'd been putting off making, and she didn't think she could take it anymore.

_Just do it Becky. Call him, and move on with your life_.

Rebecca recalled digits to mind that she hadn't tried dialing in years, punching each one deliberately into the cell-phone. Her pulse rate increased as it rang a couple of times, and she nervously switched the phone to her other ear. The voice greeting her on the other end may as well have been the Grim Reaper, for how much she wanted to talk to him.

"Grandpa Bruce?"

There was a long silence, which made Becky wonder if she'd lost him.

"Grandpa?"

"Rebecca," he answered stiffly, without allowing another word.

"Well...um, I'm calling because I found my way home, and because there's something we need to talk about," the young woman said.

"I imagine there is. I hope your latest experience succeeded in bringing you to your foolish senses."

Rebecca tensed through the anger that rose inside of her, but forced herself to keep it contained.

"I _have _come to my senses, about a number of things. But most importantly as far as you're concerned, we need to talk about my parents, and the time I had with you in Kansas. This may be a little late coming, but I still feel like I have to say it."

"Get on with it then, before I get any older."

"You're dead wrong for all the things you said about my family, even though you probably still think you're right to this day. The way you looked down on them and criticized their lives work cut me deeply. All because they chose to do something with their lives other than what _you_ wanted. They weren't fools, and they didn't waste their time. You can say whatever you want about me, but I don't ever want to hear a negative thing about them again!

You had no right to speak against what we were doing in Africa. You've never been there, and you can't see those people for who they really are. The natives are far away from you, well out of your sight, so you can't be troubled to care about what happens to them. Yet you still think you're free to tear someone else down, who _would_ try to make a difference, who chooses to see them as more than a lost cause! They're human beings Grandpa! Being different from us, doesn't mean they're worth any less than we are! I see the Congo for what it is, full of both good and evil, just like the one I was born in."

"You're just like your mother - a hopelessly deluded dreamer," the old man scoffed. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You parents brainwashed you from the time you were an infant. I'd hoped that after they died, you would be able to see things differently."

"My parents gave Hannah and I a chance to see things from another perspective, and the opportunity to make a difference with our lives. Do you think that we were somehow deprived, because we were raised in a foreign country? That we were less fortunate than other children? I wouldn't trade those years for _anything_. I'd live it over and over a thousand times if I could. My parents never had to trick us Grandpa, they just loved us, and showed us how to love other people by example.

I'm sorry that you lost your daughter and her family to the mission field - but that doesn't mean that what they were doing was wrong! I hope I am like her someday. She was brave, strong-hearted...I never knew anyone that could love people the way she did. But she also would never have allowed anyone to talk about her family, the way I silently let you.

I should have told you from the start, but I've never been strong that way. You hurt me so badly, and then when you cut me off entirely, it felt like my heart was being broken all over again. I've tried not to care what you think, but deep down, you'll always be my family. All I want is the freedom to do what's on my heart, and to still have a family that loves me, even if they don't agree with me."

There was another silence, during which Rebecca shifted the phone again.

"Are you there Grandpa?"

"Are you finished Rebecca?"

The young woman considered hard for a few seconds. "Yes, that's what I needed to say."

"You're not going to be able to get everything you want. Please don't bother any of us with these idiocies again."

There was a click on the other end, but Rebecca held the phone for a few moments longer as if he could still be there. "Hello? Grandpa?"

A frustrated cry escaped her, as she flung the phone down on the coffee table so hard that the back came flying off. The young woman fiercely wiped tears away as she got down on her hands and knees, searching for the battery that had separated from it. When she'd located both pieces, Rebecca dropped them on the table, and stayed on her knees by the couch for awhile longer.

_What did you expect? You'd put him in his place, and he'd welcome you back with open arms?_

Rebecca drove a fist into the couch cushions, and then dragged her way upright.

_It wasn't about him accepting me - it was just having him hear me out, for once at least. And I'm glad I did it._

Rebecca picked up the back-plate of her phone, and carefully fitted the battery back inside of it. She glanced at the time on the clock, and sighed heavily._ 1:30 PM, and endless hours left in the day. Why did I agree to take a break from work? I'd rather be translating pages of text, than sitting here like this._

In all honesty, she'd only been up and around for a couple of hours; there just didn't seem to be any point in trying to wind herself up. Rebecca pondered the time in which she'd been awake, trying to remember if she'd eaten anything. Nothing came to mind. The young woman wandered into the kitchen, and stared at the dishes in the sink that she should have done yesterday.

With a soft sigh she approached the sink, and began filling up one side with new soapy water. She ran a hand absent-mindedly under the warm water coming out of the faucet, shaking her head at the ease of convenience.

_It's shocking how quickly you can take it for granted. You need it, and it's there, almost without fail._

Standing there at the sink, she was suddenly stricken with grief anew over Michelangelo, washing over her so hard that she leaned against the counter for support. Rebecca's body quaked as she cried for awhile in that position, nearly draped over the counter top. She had a measure of control back when she pushed herself upright, and turned her back on the dishes for a second time.

"Enough of this. I can't take this anymore," she told herself aloud.

Rebecca only took long enough to change her clothes, and throw her unruly hair into a pony-tail, before jerking her purse off the table, and heading out the door. The early afternoon heat was a little uncomfortable, but she trudged down the busy street barely noticing it, with no real destination in mind. Rebecca had a feeling that being locked away in the apartment had been making her more emotional, but even out here on the streets, she felt herself being overwhelmed again.

She didn't bother hiding trailing tears from the strangers; they were too busy to notice or care anyway. Rebecca wasn't keeping track of the blocks she was logging on foot, so she was a little surprised by the time she looked up to the sight of the old stone church building, with its' colored windows washed in the afternoon sunlight. There had been weeks and months when she frequented the building, enough to know that someone was almost always inside.

On a whim, Rebecca tried the door, and found that it gave with a push on the bar. She glanced up and down the street one more time, before ducking into the dimly lit interior. The young woman's footsteps echoed hollowly across the empty corridor, as she walked toward the Sanctuary. The only light in the room was streaming from the windows positioned higher up near the ceiling.

The shadows didn't bother Rebecca; she actually preferred the peaceful darkness. Though there was no literal difference between seeking God in the darkness or light, something about a dim atmosphere had always made her feel closer to God somehow. Rebecca had been praying at home - or trying to rather. Most of the attempts had dissolved in tears before they even got off the ground. Her heart ached so deeply, she didn't even feel like she had the power to put the hurt into words yet.

_Why do I have to take everything so personally? We never promised ourselves to each other, we never made any kind of commitment. I only knew him for a few days, how it is possible to have this strong of a reaction to losing him?_

Rebecca settled on a hard-backed pew near the front, the same position she'd enjoyed in nearly every service, since she'd been a little girl.

_No one in front of you, no distractions._

Rebecca sat in silence for a few minutes, hoping that words would come to her, the right thing she could pray to make her feel any better. She'd been there for around fifteen minutes, when her ears picked up the sound of someone playing the organ nearby, in another room off of the Sanctuary. Rebecca listened to the strains of the song, trying to decipher what was being played. The notes repeated over and over, a little bit haltingly, as if the player was unfamiliar with reading the piece.

As it kept going, the melody became stronger, and she finally recognized it. When it started over again, Rebecca began to softly sing along with instrument, as if it were another voice besides hers'.

"When peace like a river attendeth my way...When sorrows like sea billows roll...Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well, with my soul'...It is well...With my soul...It is well, it is well, with my soul."

Emboldened by the fact that the organist wouldn't be able to hear her, her voice swelled a little higher on the chorus, and then as she sang through every beloved verse of her mother's favorite hymn. Minutes had passed before Rebecca realized she _wasn't _alone anymore. When she noticed someone in the pew behind her, she immediately shot to her feet.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry, um...The door was open, and I just came in to pray."

"Stay, you haven't harmed anything," the older man assured her. "I only came by to check on my granddaughter's progress with her chords. I didn't expect a full concert." His expression remained somber, though she could see amusement in his brown eyes when he leaned over the back of the pew. He had a tie hanging limply around his neck, signifying that he was nearly finished with his business at the church, and had other things to attend to.

"I'm so embarrassed - I'm sorry..."

"Please, sit."

Rebecca hesitated, but then obeyed, turning in the pew so she would be facing him.

"God has an open door policy with us, so I've never felt that it was appropriate to keep the doors of His house closed for long. Is there something I could help you with, or pray for?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I don't know. I'm all torn up inside, it wouldn't even make sense if I tried to explain. I haven't been able to pray."

"Sometimes a song close to the heart, is the best kind of prayer that there is."

Rebecca opened her mouth to say something in response, but her cell-phone interrupted her. Her horrified expression at her phone going off at that precise moment must have been what made the man chuckle. She glanced at the facing, and hurriedly turned it off.

"If that's someone you need to talk to, God really won't get mad," the man said with a twinkle.

"No, just another TV station probably," she mumbled to herself. "I'm so sick of these people. They don't take no for an answer."

"You're being hounded by the media?"

"When you put it that way, it sounds even more ridiculous. I went through something recently in Africa, and now ever since I got home, the calls haven't stopped. Everyone wants the scoop on the American girl that got kidnapped by the hostile natives. You'd think there was nothing else going on in the world."

"What were you doing in Africa?"

"I'm an interpreter, I was partnered with another man operating through Doctors without Borders."

"You must have studied very hard to work in that capacity."

"Not like you'd think, a lot of it came naturally, from growing up over there. I was a missionary's kid."

"And now you're grown, and still feel drawn to return?"

She nodded. "They go through so much, and have few advocates to speak for them."

"Hm. You seem to be passing up a rare opportunity then."

"What do you mean?"

"By talking to some of these stations, you could have the power to shine the light on the real issues at hand. Put the focus back where it belongs."

Rebecca leaned harder against the back of the pew with a furrowed brow. "I guess I hadn't thought of it like that."


	75. Flake

Marcus sensed the discomfort in the atmosphere, the minute he stepped into the Den late that afternoon. He walked in to meet both Leonardo and Raphael hanging out in the living area.

"Hey. It feels so quiet in here," Marc commented. "How is everything?"

"By _everything_, you mean Mikey don't you?" Raphael clarified.

"Nobody can actually tell," Leonardo spoke up quietly. "Donny let him go to his own room, and he's been spending almost all his time there. He's sleeping mostly, though we've been trying to keep him occupied too. He just isn't interested in anything."

"Doc thinks he's depressed. Something having to do with being stuck back down here again, after getting to roam free for a few days," Raphael added. "He's never been shut up this tight over _anything_. I still think that girl's got something to do with this. It's really too bad she had to flake out, without even giving anybody a chance. We did go to the trouble to save her too. You'd think she could be grateful or something, not run off at the first opportunity."

"Raph, you don't know what you're talking about," Marcus said sharply. "Becky's not even close to being a flake. You don't know what she and Mike went through, or what happened to her before that."

"Well, did she open up to you at all Marc? Does anybody know a thing about her past?"

Marcus sat down beside the red-masked turtle, after noticing Leonardo fix Raphael with a bit of a dark look.

"He's all right to ask Leo. No Raph, she didn't open up to me, not that I pushed very hard. But Kat was pretty bored while all of us were gone, and ended up doing some digging with Greg's connections. April and I assumed that something had happened to her family, but Kat was able to locate the actual event. Her parents and sister were murdered by Congolese natives; nobody knows what their background or motivation was. Rebecca was injured in the same attack, and came back to the US to heal and to grieve. That was three years ago."

"And she wanted to go back there?" Raphael's tone had changed already. "I don't get it. Why would you put yourself through all that?"

"Because that's where her heart is Raph, and that's the kind of person she is. Rebecca's very committed, not all at given to being shallow or a 'flake', as you called it. I don't know why she ran. She could have been intimidated - she certainly didn't look that comfortable meeting everyone at once. Rebecca's a quiet person, and I could see her being easily overwhelmed in a situation like that.

She also might be afraid. I don't know why she felt like she couldn't talk about her past, but she was definitely wounded, both by the loss of her immediate family, and the rejection of her extended one. April told you that they didn't care that she was missing."

"Yeah," Raphael said glumly. "She did. Everything she could depend on, that she _should_ have been able to trust in up and disappeared on her."

"That's right. Until you have a true understanding of what it's like to lose it all, I have one piece of advice for you. Don't judge her," Marcus finished.

His amber eyes trained downward. "I'm sorry Marc, I wasn't trying to offend you. I just wish I knew what was going on here, and I'm wondering if we're gonna get Mikey _back_."

"We've only been home for five days Raph," Leonardo said quietly. "He still needs to recover physically, and mentally might take a little longer. We have to try and be patient with him. As much as we all want to help, it won't do any good to push when he doesn't want to budge."

"It has in the past," Raphael grumbled.

"We're not talking about the past. If he wants space, I think we're better off letting him have some. We just have to make sure he's eating."

"Donny took care of that this morning, threatened to put him back on the IV." Raphael snickered. "That got him eating a little more. But he still doesn't want the TV, and won't touch a video game. I thought with being down like this, he'd try to at least write some more, but he's not even going there. I hate seeing him like this Marc, it's driving me up the wall!"

The man shook his head. "Raph, your brother's in there, okay? He'll come out on the other side of all this, you'll see. Just support him however you can in the meantime."

"We're trying," Leonardo replied. "And we'll keep trying."

Before Marcus could say something else, his phone vibrated. April.

"Hang on guys, I need to take this," he told the turtles, and hit the button to answer it.

"Hey Marc - quick question. Are you actually busy tomorrow morning, or is it like something you could get out of?"

"No...I really can't April. I have a surgery that's already been rescheduled once. I'm supposed to be operating at 6:30 in the morning."

"Darn it, well, you can't change that."

"Why are you asking?"

"I got a call from my station. Someone booked Rebecca to do an interview on the morning show tomorrow."

"No kidding? I didn't think that would happen."

"No, me neither."

"Shoot, if I_ could _get out of it..."

"No Marc, seriously. Don't do that to your patient. This is someone's health we're talking about."

"Yeah, I know," he said morosely. "Thanks for the heads' up anyway."

Both turtles were looking at him expectantly when he hung up the phone.

"What's going on Marc?" Leo asked him.

"Rebecca agreed to do the morning show on April's network. I never saw that coming. They'd been wanting me too, but I've got to operate tomorrow. That just figures," he grumbled under his breath.

* * *

Michelangelo silently stood up straight out of the crouched position behind the wall, and his body felt stiff and unrelenting with the motion. The trip back from the bathroom had gotten a little side-tracked when he heard Marcus talking to his oldest brothers. He'd caught the last part of Marc's statement too, and decided that was all he had the energy to overhear.

The orange-masked turtle crept back to his room, carefully closing the door so that it wouldn't make a sound. Michelangelo dropped back onto his bed heavily. He'd felt a little stronger over the last two days, but abhorred the lingering weariness and muscle aches that hadn't quit. He shifted onto his plastron, and dropped his chin onto his pillow thoughtfully.

Mike couldn't get Rebecca out of his head; she was the consuming focus of nearly all his awake time. No matter how hard he tried to shift to something else, it didn't seem to make any dent in the images that kept coming back to haunt him. Mike had been forced to get more insistent in his quest to make his brothers lay off with the questions.

_How long do you think you're gonna keep it from them? _he had to ask himself. _Until you get over her? What if you don't get over her, what then?_

Mike yanked his pillow off the bed an buried his head underneath it, as if to shut the voices out of his mind.

_It just doesn't quit. I hate that Raph is blaming her for leaving, like it was what she wanted. Most of 'em are probably thinking the same thing. Dang it, what's wrong with me? How can I let her take the rap for this, like she got spooked or something? I don't know how I'm living with myself._

He lifted his head from the mattress, and lay back down on the pillow a second time.

_I've probably got about half an hour before Donny checks on me again. I 'spose I should get some sleep, while I can._

The turtle rolled over again a couple of minutes into the attempt to fall back asleep, and stared up at his ceiling.

_I wish I had a chance for a 'do-over' on this one, that I wouldn't have let it start up to begin with. I know I hurt her, and that's the last thing I wanted, besides crushing her dreams completely. There are so many guys she could end up with that could support her, and be there right alongside her in the bush. She needs someone she can partner with, not hold her down like some balloon on a string._

Michelangelo sighed as he heard the door knob turning.

_Great, he's early. That's to be expected I guess._

He raised his head a couple of inches, giving a swift double-take when he saw Luke's blond head.

"Hey Mikey. I brought someone to see you," the man said casually, adjusting his arms so that the turtle could see Reina.

Mike had only seen her briefly the night they'd returned, while he was distracted by consuming guilt over the lies that had sent Rebecca away empty-handed.

"She looks bigger Doc," Mike remarked.

"Yes, well...it's been almost a month since we originally left for the Congo. They do grow pretty fast at this age."

Luke offered the baby to him, and the turtle's blue eyes softened as the little girl relaxed in the arms of the familiar turtle.

"She's so pretty Doc. You're gonna have to beat the boys off with a stick."

"I'll talk to Donny, I can probably borrow his bo."

"Why bother? Me and my bros can handle it just fine. Every dude in a five mile radius would get the needed screening."

"I fear for her teenage years," Luke said dryly. A smile appeared on his own face, as the baby cooed something unintelligible at Michelangelo. "She's always liked you Mike. She's a good judge of character."

Michelangelo gave the man a small grin, as he cradled her closer to his plastron. "She's a great kid Doc - I bet she'll be really smart like her Dad."

"And she'll probably be able to eventually kick some tail too, if Kat has anything to do with it."

"Don't forget about her Uncle Raphael."

"Do you think you feel well enough to come downstairs for awhile?" Luke asked suddenly. "Marc's already here, and the other guys are supposed to be coming too. Your brothers have been craving some guy bonding. We'd like you to join us."

Michelangelo shrugged. "As long as you're not expecting the life of the party," he said honestly. "I could come for a bit, but I think I might catch a few more winks first. I haven't been able to shake it completely Doc."

"That's normal Mike, it takes time. Listen, don't feel obligated, okay? If you're tired, you're tired. We just...we miss you is all. We've_ been _missing you."

Mike ducked his head slightly, and busied himself fussing with the baby's curls. "I missed you guys too. I'm sorry I'm not up to my old tricks yet. I don't even have the energy to fake it right now."

"It's all right Mike. We just want you to remember that we're still around, and waiting to serve you hand and foot if you'll let us."

Luke received another smile from Michelangelo at that, and the turtle held up Reina to return her to him.

"I'll be okay Doc. I hate to keep everyone waiting, but I'm not myself, and it's hard to pretend that I am."

"No one wants you to pretend Mikey, but if you get the hankering to talk about anything..."

"Yeah, I know what you're saying Doc. I'll take everyone up on that eventually. I just need some more time."


	76. Broadcast

Donatello stretched silently in the darkness, and punched the button to illuminate his watch. It was almost a quarter after 7AM - not _that _early, but everyone had been up really late the night before. The only exceptions were the two docs who had to cut the evening short, and Mike, who'd only hung out with them for a little over an hour.

The purple-masked turtle could hear Jenna's even breathing beside him, and almost rolled over to go back to sleep too.

_Well, hang on. I should probably at least glance at Mike's vitals - he's been acting so out of it._

Donatello felt around on the bed-side table for the scanner he knew was supposed to be there, and tapped a couple of buttons to bring up the correct program. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lighting on the screen, before he could make out the small text. Donatello perused the normal information, noting the curious fact that Mike's heart and pulse rate were elevated.

_That's weird - especially if he's asleep. I'd better go see what's up with him._

As he shifted over the side of the bed, Jenna stirred, though he didn't think he'd made any noise.

"Donny? What time is it?" she murmured.

"It's still early Jen. I'll be back in a minute, okay? I want to go see Mike, double-check something. Will you save my spot?"

"Maybe. You'd better hurry."

The turtle couldn't resist leaning back over to kiss her, and she playfully held onto it for as long as he allowed.

"I'll be quick," he assured her.

Donatello entered the hall quietly so that he wouldn't disturb Raph or Karina, and was met almost immediately by the low sound of the TV. Someone else was already awake too. The usual night light was the only thing illuminating the living area, but in the flicker of the TV, he could also see someone sitting on the couch. As the picture shifted and provided more light to the room, he realized that it was Michelangelo.

Donny opened his mouth to speak, but something about the _way _his younger brother was hunched over made him wait.

_He got up to watch the News? How weird is that? Why would he bother..._

Donatello trailed off when he recognized who was on the screen. He kept his silence as he peered cautiously around the corner, and strained to hear better at the same time.

"...I understand that you have a lot of history as far as the DRC is concerned. We do need to make a distinction for our viewers, relating to the two different Congos don't we?" a perfectly coiffed anchorwoman was asking.

"It can be a little confusing," Rebecca acknowledged. "You have Congo, and then you have the Democratic Republic of Congo. They're two different countries, though they're bonded by the same river."

"How did you come to be so familiar with the way of life over there, in addition to speaking their languages?"

"I grew up in the DRC with my family; we did work with several of the indigenous tribes. That was up until a few years ago when my parents and sister were lost to the rainforest, and I returned to the United States."

"Is it true that the other members of your family were killed at the hands of those they used to serve?"

The young woman paused for half a beat. "We don't know the identities of our attackers, or their reasoning."

"But you've been returning to the country. How many times have you been back, since partnering as an interpreter with the United States Embassy?"

"Twice before this trip, with the longest stint lasting around two months."

"Miss Tompkins, your story is very inspiring; what with the amount of empathy you have for these people. If you don't mind me asking, I know that our viewers at home are probably wondering as well as I am, what is it that keeps pushing you to return to such a dangerous atmosphere?"

"I've been asked that before. Some people have even questioned how I could stand to return to the same people that took my family's lives. The simple answer is that I'm not the kind of person that lumps everyone into one category. I don't know who killed them, but it doesn't make a difference to me. You can't blame an entire nation for the actions of a few people..."

Rebecca's voice continued, but now Donatello was being more distracted by the rapt attention Michelangelo was giving the TV. He couldn't see Mike's face from where he was, but he could tell from his posture that his brother was getting more emotional with the passing seconds. When Mike finally dropped his head into his hands with a great shudder, Donatello understood.

The purple-masked turtle backed carefully away from the living area, hurrying back to the bedroom. Without a word, he flipped on the overhead light, and Jenna sat up with a start.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She sounded a little breathless already.

"Turn on the TV to channel 6, hurry up," he urged her.

Jenna scooped up the remote from her side of the bed, but gave him a bewildered look. "What's going on?'

"I'm an idiot. I can't believe I didn't see it," the turtle fumed to himself, as Jenna seemed to realize who was being interviewed on the screen.

"You didn't see what Donny?"

"He_ fell _for her Jen! It explains everything. That's why he's been acting so weird, why he doesn't want to talk about anything. He really likes her, she's gone, and he's heartbroken."

"It could explain why she _left_ too Donny. Who knows if she felt the same way? Marc didn't think she'd be ready for something like that."

"You guys thought something was going on?"

"No, it was a hypothetical conversation. So wait, how did they_ act _together?"

"If there was something mutual going on, they hid it incredibly well. I didn't pick up on a single thing, and I don't think the others did either, or they would have said something."

"Let's just calm down for a minute, and listen to a little more of this," Jenna suggested, turning up the volume slightly.

"...There's a lot of speculation by some parties over the rescue effort that was launched on your behalf. As of yet, no one has been able to determine what branch of our Government was involved. We can verify that Dr. Sloan was returned to the United States by our own military, but can you shed any more light on that mystery operation?"

"I can't comment on the rescue effort itself, except to say that I feel very fortunate. Several individuals put their lives on the line and then on _hold_ to help save me. I'll never be able to forget them, or what they did for me."

"Can you tell me why it took over two weeks longer for you to make your own return to the United States, after Dr. Sloan had already arrived?"

Rebecca laughed, a sound that didn't contain much humor. "In the process of...evacuating the rebels' territory, one of the rescuers and I were separated from the others, and then stranded in the rainforest."

"How did the two of you survive for days on your own?"

"We had a few supplies, we lived off the land, and we just..." The young woman faltered, appearing to be biting her lip very hard. "We made a good team." Her voice broke with the words, and she exhaled softly. "Sorry. Can we move on?"

Jenna instantly paused the DVR, to stop the live broadcast where it was.

"Donny, it_ is _mutual."

"We don't know that for sure. It could be-"

"Donatello, I know that look, and it's not the face of someone who's lost a friend. I'm telling you, something happened between them. You've got to talk to your brother."

"I've tried Jen, we've _all_ tried! If he was going to tell us about her, I think he already would have. I don't know if he feels ashamed that she left, or doesn't want us feeling sorry for him, but he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Well, then what are we going to do? We have to do something Donny!"

"I _am_ going to do something," he said plainly. "I'll track down the other key player. One way or another, I'm going to get to the bottom of this Jen."

* * *

Rebecca didn't realize that her phone was still turned off until she got home from the station. She flipped it back on, but then left it sitting on the counter while she rummaged under the sink.

_I'm going to have to clean this place sooner or later, now is as good a time as any._

Doing the interview hadn't been as hard as she imagined it would be; she just couldn't allow herself to think about the fact that who knows how many thousands of people could have been watching. She'd only nearly broken down the one time, so Rebecca considered it to be a marginal success.

_At least I didn't turn into a blubbering moron in front of the whole metropolitan area._

Cleaning gave her something to do, an opportunity to focus her energies on something else. Rebecca reveled in the activity for about half an hour, before the sound of her phone ringing from the kitchen cut through the moderate volume of the radio. The young woman dropped her rag on the table, and trotted back to where she'd left the device on the counter.

The number was blocked. She didn't plan on answering it, but for some reason, she hit the button before she could stop herself.

"Hello?" she said uncertainly.

"Rebecca, is that you?"

The voice was vaguely familiar.

"This is she. Who is this?"

"It's Donatello. I get that you might not want to talk to me, but this is important."

Rebecca dropped into a kitchen chair with a sigh. "Look, you guys don't have to worry, okay? I was on TV today, but I'm not going on the Talk Show circuit. I won't tell anyone about you, I promise."

"That's not why I'm calling. It's about Mike."

"Donatello, there's nothing I can say on that matter - I'm out of the whole thing."

"Rebecca, we _need _to talk about this."

"I'm still here," she said somewhat stiffly.

"No, I mean face to face."

"That isn't a good idea. I'm sorry, but it's out of my hands."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but we truly stuck our necks out for you Rebecca,_ twice_. Now, I'm not the kind of guy that would usually hold something like that over someone's head, but it sounds like you're trying to force my hand. You owe us this much."

Rebecca had the vague temptation to bang her head on the table. "All right...all right! As long as you come alone, or...Wait, how are we supposed to do this? My roommate is in Europe, so I guess you could come here, or I could go somewhere too."

"Have you got a fire escape?"

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Then I'll come to you after dark, say around 11? All I need is an address."

* * *

"Donny, I don't understand why I can't come with you, or why you're not telling your brothers anything," Jenna complained.

"I'm going to tell them Jen, but if I do it right now, I'll never get out of here alone. She specifically asked me to come by myself. That's also why you can't come with me. Guilt is the only thing that got her to agree to it in the first place. It's going to be hard enough getting her to talk as it is, let alone with all of us in her face. Can you please just trust me to handle this?"

"Will you at least let me drive you? Your brothers will be less likely to suspect something's going on if we leave together."

Donatello shrugged. "I guess it's okay, as long as you promise to stay in the car."

The raven haired woman nodded. "I'll take what I can get. That way, I can at least be your back-up if she needs further 'persuasion'."

"Jen, I'm not going there to threaten her! I just want the truth out of somebody. It won't even necessarily help Mike. It actually feels a little pointless. If she's already made up her mind, I don't know what I could say to change it."

"Don't go in defeated Donny," Jenna said quietly. "I know this has been hard, but doesn't it feel like you're getting somewhere now?"

"Maybe. I want this for him Jenna, but how can we fault her for living her life? You guys have all given up a lot to be here. We can't assume that everyone we meet is able to pay that price."

"It isn't your job to sway her Don. Try to find out where she stands, and why she really left. As far as anything else, you can't hold yourself responsible for convincing her. Everything doesn't always work out - not in the real world. I don't want you taking this on like some kind of personal mission, or to accept it as your own failure if there's nothing you can do."

The purple-masked turtle stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. "I'll talk to the guys when I get back," he said bleakly, and then sighed. "I feel terrible about all this. It's hard to imagine that he could have been that happy, only to see it slip away. Sensei would know what to say to him. He could have gotten it out of him days ago."

Jenna shifted next to him on his side of the bed. "Maybe Donny - but it doesn't help anything to wish for what _could_ have been."

He glanced over at her, but her light blue gaze was staring off into space.

"When I was a little girl, I used to think about my Dad, and try to dream of what it would be like if he was around. When things got really bad in a foster home, sometimes I would go hide in the closet, and in the dark I'd make-believe that he was alive, and that he was coming to rescue me. When I couldn't get away from the abuse, I'd still try to use my _mind_ to escape. If I didn't think about what was being done to me, it didn't feel as real.

I think I was trying to pretend that the two were switched. What was imaginary became 'real', and all the ugliness I was actually trapped in, that was the dream. A bad, bad dream, and all I had to do was wake up."

Jenna relaxed against the turtle's arm that he looped around her, and the looked over to face him.

"Losing people the way of life Donny. Sometimes they die, or they just leave, without rhyme or reason for it. It's no good to torture yourself with thoughts of how much better if would be if they were still around. There comes a point when you have to be grateful for the time you did have, and leave it at that. You'll always have good memories of your Sensei. And in your case, between you and your brothers, you've got enough love and understanding for Mikey to help him get through this. Whether this girl is a permanent fixture in our lives or not, the three of you are still enough for him."

Donatello gave her a watery smile as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"One of these days, you're going to have to finally trust that you're capable of handling these things together," Jenna finished.


	77. Truth & Confrontation

When Donatello arrived at the correct window a few hours later, the young woman was already waiting for him. The turtle had barely gotten a knuckle on the glass pane, before she pulled up the blind and started to unlock it.

"Hey. C'mon in." Rebecca sounded exceedingly weary, and somehow looked younger than he remembered her being.

Her light brown curls were hanging loosely around her shoulders, slightly damp as though they'd been recently washed.

"You really came alone?"

"That was the deal," Donatello said evenly. "Didn't Marc tell you that we're creatures of our word?"

Rebecca nodded. "I've got some fresh coffee going. Why don't you sit down, and I'll be right back?"

Donatello's eyes roved over the apartment while she was gone, taking in all the details he could about the small space. It was a comfortable room filled with photographs and still images of life, but he couldn't help noticing that _none_of the pictures included Rebecca.

"You take your caffeine black, don't you?" she called from the kitchen.

"Does it really need anything else?"

She reappeared with a small smile. "Simple is good."

The purple-masked turtle took a careful sip, and could have about hit the floor. "Holy shell, what_ is _that?"

"Special blend that my roommate prefers. You like?"

"It's fantastic - you're going to have to show me that bag. You seem like a bit of a mind-reader."

"Your little brother is fond of talking about you Donatello. I knew what would make you feel comfortable."

"Right," Donny said a little more seriously, but savored another sip before forcing himself to get down to business. "I don't want to overstep any boundaries here, but I don't know how else to do this, except to come to the point. I saw some of the broadcast from this morning. I saw how Mike reacted to seeing you...and the way you reacted to talking about _him_. You can tell me I'm wrong if I really am, but it honestly feels like there was something between the two of you."

Rebecca smoothed hair behind her ears, in what looked like an anxious gesture. "You're not wrong. I'm not going to sit here and lie to you."

Donatello nodded to himself, and then considered his words carefully. "He's been acting strangely for days, getting more distant from us than he's ever been before. Doc thought he was depressed, something to do with being sick, and then cooped back up underground. But that's not how I see it anymore. It feels like he's grieving, but I don't know how to help, when he won't even talk about it.

I didn't come here to judge you personally, or accuse you of doing anything wrong. I know you've been hurt by other people, and I guess...I wanted to make sure that you didn't leave out of fear. Fear of us, fear of Mike hurting you...or anything like that."

"Donatello, I'm not afraid of what Mike would do to me, or any of you for that matter. If anything, my time with him only made me feel _bolder _inside. I'm not the one who slammed on the brakes here."

"You didn't break anything off with him? But...you left so suddenly..."

"I _left_ because I couldn't pretend that I felt any other way for him than I do. Donatello, he told me he couldn't do it. He tried to say that none of it was real."

Donatello was speechless for a few moments, before he could find his voice again. "Rebecca, I'm sorry," he finally recovered. "He didn't tell us anything, and I just assumed...I'm really sorry."

"You assumed what seemed obvious. I _am _the one who did the leaving - but it wasn't because I wanted to." Rebecca's voice wavered with the last words, and the purple-masked turtle wanted to kick himself.

"Rebecca, is there any possibility that you'd want to see him again?"

"That's up to Mike, Donatello. My feelings haven't changed, but I can't push myself on him either. If he doesn't want it, he doesn't want it."

"But you haven't written him off?"

"No, but I can't go back with you, if that's where you're going with this. I can't bear to go through that again."

* * *

Michelangelo had been staring at an empty sheet of paper in his notebook for what felt like an eternity, willing some kind of words to come. Now, more than ever, he felt like he owed some kind of explanation to Rebecca. It just couldn't involve actually talking to her, or seeing the woman in person. His resolve hadn't faltered on the idea that he would be dragging her down, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to function under the guilt of the hurt he'd caused.

He glanced up at the clock whose digital numbers never seemed to move, restlessness growing in his limbs. Despite feeling stronger today, he'd stayed planted behind his closed door. His emotions felt so volatile, and the last thing he wanted to do was give anyone more reason to question him than they already had.

Blue eyes were still staring at the lined paper blankly, when his bedroom door came flying open without so much as a knock. His purple-masked brother revealed himself with crossed arms, and a very stern expression.

"Mikey, we need to_ talk_."

Michelangelo flipped the notebook closed. "Pass. It's late Donny, I'm not up for this right now."

"You don't _get_ to pass anymore. You've been shoving us off for a week, and enough is enough."

"What do you want me to say to you? What's so important that you gotta come in like this?"

"You lied to her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rebecca," he replied testily. "I've been sitting around her feeling_ sorry _for you, and you're the one who cut if off!"

"You're one to talk." Michelangelo's reply was short. "You pushed Jen away so many times, it's a wonder she ever held on that long. If she hadn't been inside the UN when it exploded, you'd probably _still_ be undecided!"

"_This_ isn't about me Mike. I pushed Jenna away more than I ever should have, but I didn't lie to her! I didn't try to tell her that it wasn't real!"

Michelangelo stared at him for an instant. "How do you know that? How do you know any of this?"

"I saw you watching her on TV this morning, and I put the pieces together. I went to see Rebecca in Brooklyn."

The orange-masked turtle was on his feet in a flash. "You went to SEE her? To talk about me? Donatello, you had no right to do that! It's none of your business!"

"Neither was my relationship with Jenna, but that never stopped you from putting your two cents in, Mike!"

"That's completely different! I never went behind your back with her; I didn't pull her aside for some private chat. You crossed the line!"

"I probably did," Donatello allowed. "But what was I supposed to do? You're not talking, hardly eating...you're not even being honest with _us_. You're sitting around here like the living dead!"

Michelangelo had been gradually moving toward him, and at that statement, he felt himself losing it. The fists he'd been clenching at his sides suddenly released, and he rammed his brother against the wall with surprising fierceness.

"That's right, I forgot! I'm not allowed to have real feelings - I can't ever be upset about _anything_! You can mope around as much as you need to, but not me! I always have to be on point, always gotta have a stupid grin on my face! For once in my life, can't I just be unhappy without having to feel GUILTY for it?"

His hands had become as unrelenting as iron on his brother's arms, crushing tighter as he reached the climax.

"Michelangelo!" Leonardo's firm voice reminded him very much of Splinter's old tone with him, when he was being reprimanded for something.

It succeeded in bringing the orange-masked turtle back down to earth. Michelangelo blinked twice to see Donatello still pinned against the wall, tensing as if he expected a blow at any moment. It didn't automatically register that _he_ was the one holding him down, until Leonardo spoke sharply again.

"Mike, let him go!"

Michelangelo released his brother as if he'd turned into a fiery coal, and the purple-masked turtle darted to get around him. Mike heard his brother's gasp as he retreated, instantly realizing that the turtle was fighting off tears.

"Oh _shell_, Donny wait-"

Leonardo stopped him as he made for the door to follow Donatello.

"Let him go," Leonardo repeated.

"Leo I can't - I have to fix this!"

"There's plenty of time to do that. I guarantee Raph won't let him go anywhere."

"He's up too?"

"You guys got a little loud Mikey. Now sit down, and tell me what happened," he ordered.

Michelangelo collapsed onto the edge of his mattress, and allowed his forehead to fall into his hands. "I made a mistake. I went too far, and I messed everything up."

"He's your brother Mike, everything's going to work out."

"I'm not talking about him. It's Rebecca."

Leonardo ventured over beside him, and gave him a sidelong glance. "What about her Mike?"

"I let you guys think she just up and left, but that's not how it was. Something happened out there Leo. I've seen all kinds of stories about people meeting, and falling for each other at the drop of a hat. But I didn't see it coming, or think that it could happen to me. I've got this memory of carrying her out of that river, and she looked half dead. It was like the weirdest thing came over me, and I couldn't take my eyes off her.

For days it kept building, and I was acting like an idiot, probably as obvious as a herd of wild buffalo. Then it turned out that she felt something too. We kissed, and it was like...everything just stopped. Nothing else mattered, not as long as she was in front of me. It wasn't until later, after I woke up with you guys, that I started to realize what I was doing. I never stopped to think about what she'd be giving up to be with me. The more I thought about it, I couldn't come to grips with doing that to her. I couldn't be the reason she walked away from her calling.

So when we got back to the US, I told her flat out that I couldn't do it. I lied to her, I claimed that nothing had been real. Donny figured some of this stuff out on his own, came back to confront me on it, and I went off on him. I...I can't believe I lost it like that."

"It didn't look like you actually hurt him. You're brothers Mike, you're bound to have an argument every ten years or so."

There was the faintest hint of amusement in Leonardo's voice, and it made the orange-masked turtle indignant.

"You think this is funny? It's cool for you and Raph maybe; you've gotten physical plenty of times. Donny and me aren't like that! I've _never_ touched him outside of playing or in a spar. We just don't do it!"

Leonardo's arm came to rest reassuringly around his shoulder. "Calm down Mike, and breathe. You've been harboring a lot inside, and I guess you were bound to explode sooner or later. You can work your own thing out with Donny; I don't feel like I need to mediate for you two. But what about Rebecca? Are you going to talk to her, tell her the truth about how you feel?"

"I'm going to write a letter. I can't actually talk to her Fearless, not after what I did. I let all of you think she was abandoning ship, when I'm the one who kicked her off without a life raft. I'm sorry that I lied to her, and that I didn't tell any of you the truth, but I'm still not going to be the one to chain her down Leo."

"Mike, that isn't fair. Is that how you see the rest of us? That we're just holding the girls down, as if they don't have a will of their own?"

Slowly, Michelangelo got to his feet. "Rebecca's situation is _different_ Leo. I don't wanna talk about it anymore right now. I'll tell you guys everything you wanna hear, but I also need to go fix things with Donny. Can we pick this back up again later?"

Leonardo nodded, an extraordinarily sad expression coming over his face. "You go ahead Mikey. We can continue this in the morning."


	78. Intervention

Michelangelo padded down the steps without making a sound, hesitating about half-way for a few seconds. He could just see the top of Donny's head where he was slouched in the recliner, and then glanced over at Raphael sitting on the couch. If Jen and Kari were awake, they were choosing to stay out of sight. With a soft breath, Mike continued down the staircase, and stood fidgeting a moment longer at the bottom before Raphael noticed him. "C'mon in here chucklehead," the red-masked turtle directed him. His amber eyes shifted slowly between Mike and Donatello. "You guys gonna be all right?"

Donatello cast a questioning glance over his shoulder at Mike, and the orange-masked turtle nodded.

"We're fine Raph - go on back to bed. I'm sorry we woke you," Donatello replied.

As Raphael slipped back down the hall, Michelangelo trudged the rest of the way into the living area, and sat down on the couch. He opened his mouth to speak, but Donatello started in before he could.

"I'm sorry I went behind your back Mike. I thought my reasons were good enough, but I guess they weren't. I didn't mean to make a complicated situation worse, I was just trying-"

"You were trying to help. That's_ all _you guys have been doing, ever since we got home," Michelangelo said quietly. "I wish you wouldn't have done it, but that's not what I'm here to talk about. I know I hurt you Donny, and I'm sorry."

Donatello shook his head slowly. "You startled me, caught me off guard. You didn't hurt me."

"Maybe not _physically_," Mike said pointedly. "You know I'd never really hit you like that, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. I just wasn't prepared for it...It reminded me too much of something else," Donatello finished shakily.

Michelangelo winced with a tremendous sigh, knowing what his brother was referring to.

"Donny, that wouldn't happen with Leo again, and it's not gonna happen with me, I swear. I'm sorry for what I said about you and Jen too. I was just trying to turn the spotlight off of myself, and it was easier to bring up your mistakes."

"Naturally, and I made a lot of them Mike. My hope is that you can learn from mine, instead of repeating them."

Mike leaned back wearily against the sofa. "It isn't that simple Don, I wish it was."

"Explain this to me Mike. Why is allowing _this_ any different from the rest of us having relationships?"

"It just is Donny. You worried all the time that you were going to be holding your girl back. In my case, I _know _I would be. How am I supposed to stand in the way of something like this? Someone has to go, they have to have somebody standing up for them. Becky knows 'em, she speaks their languages, and more importantly, she honestly cares about what happens to them. I don't want her to choose between us, so ending it seemed like the only option."

"Why couldn't you tell her that?"

"And make her feel like her calling is what killed us? I'd rather she ended up hating me forever."

"She doesn't hate you Mikey," Donatello said at once. "She still wants to be with you."

Michelangelo closed his eyes briefly. "Do you blame me for not wanting to get in the way?"

"How can I? All of us have felt that way at some point in time. But I don't think it should have been a solo decision on your part."

"I did what I had to Donny, not what I wanted to. In any case...I think more talk about her can wait until tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure that _we're_ okay."

"It wasn't even that big of a deal," Donatello said weakly. "I'm sure I overreacted. If I had a dime for every time that Raph and Leo went at it, I'd be rich by now."

"We're not them Donny. Part of me has always felt a little protective of you when it comes to them, probably_ because _of the thing with Leo. Between that, and the fact that you don't always like to fight back when you're being harassed...I've sorta felt like I needed to look out for you, as dumb as that sounds. Coming after you tonight makes me feel like I broke some sort of trust."

Donatello shook his head. "No Mike, you didn't. Don't torture yourself over this, okay? You didn't hurt me, and it's over. But I do need to ask you about the other thing you said, about feeling guilty for being unhappy. Where did that come from? You've told me about the pressure you feel to maintain a good attitude, but you've never said anything like _that_."

"That wasn't about you Donny, though I'm sure it sounded like it was. I know you guys don't _expect_ me to be up all the time, but I've never been able to escape the sense that I need to be. I'm sorry it came out like that, I don't blame you for it."

"Mike, if there's one thing I know about personalities, it's that their traits aren't a constant factor. A quiet person isn't _always_ quiet. Given the right circumstances, they can laugh and talk your ear off, just as long and loud as anyone else. Even the most confident person will eventually get rocked by something, and the best leader will still need direction from someone else.

None of us are completely one thing or another. I think it isn't fair to put those kinds of labels on people, as if that's all you can ever expect out of them. God forbid a shy person try to be funny. Some people would just look at them like they've suddenly lost all their marbles. Don't allow one of your greatest strengths to become your heaviest burden Mikey. You are not single-handedly responsible for making sure everyone else around you is happy and in good spirits. And you_ never _need to feel guilty because you're having your own down moment."

Donatello sat further forward in the recliner so that he could reach Michelangelo, and lightly tapped his knee. "You're allowed to need support, just like rest of us."

Michelangelo rose off the couch, and met his purple-masked brother in a strong embrace. "I really missed you Donny," he said a little tearfully.

"I've missed you too bro, believe me."

* * *

(The Next Evening)

Michelangelo had taken up the same position he'd been in the night before, still drawing a blank with how to start the letter that he needed to write. When there was a knock at his door, he was actually grateful for the interruption this time. "Come in!"

"Hey Mikey," Raphael greeted him from the hall. "Me and Donny are heading over to see Heff and Brandon, gonna hang out for awhile. Get off your shell, and come with us."

Michelangelo glanced down at the still empty page. "I dunno Raph, I kind of need to write this sometime in the next year or so."

"Like one more night will make a difference? Get up. We're leaving in ten minutes."

_I guess it wouldn't hurt me to get out, _Michelangelo thought to himself, as the red-masked turtle disappeared from sight. _I need to talk to Brandon anyway._

Mike scooped up his forgotten weapons, automatically tucking them into his belt before trotting downstairs. Donny was emerging from the Lab yanking his back-pack over his shoulders, as Mike made his own way to the living area.

"Whatcha got there Donny? Are we making a two day event out of this?" Mike asked curiously.

"Just a couple of things I might need," Donatello answered casually.

"You know Genius, there's no way he can just relax for one evening." Raphael smirked.

Mike noticed the brother that was obviously missing. "Where's Leo?"

"With Calley; he left about an hour ago," Donny told him, and glanced at his watch. "If you're ready, we could get going."

Arriving on the surface brought partial relief to some of the tension that Michelangelo had been harboring in his muscles. The night air was refreshing, even if it wasn't exactly cool. Just the chance to be out in the real circulation again felt better than he'd expected it to. Mike drummed his fingers a little absent-mindedly, as he rode in the back of the van with Raphael.

"So what's on the agenda for tonight?"

"We're playing it by ear Mike, we'll figure it out when we get there. You're gonna be glad you came with us."

"I didn't realize I had a choice in the matter," Mike cracked. "Shell, doesn't it feel like forever since we did this?"

Raphael nodded stoically, brow furrowing in what Michelangelo guessed was anxiety.

"I really am gonna be okay Raph. Keeping everything in was the pits. I'm not over her, but I won't feel like this forever, right?"

"I dunno Mike, I've never been in this spot before. Do you want my honest opinion on the whole thing?"

"I'm not used to _asking_ for it." Mikey grinned.

"I don't think you should have shoved her off, without at least finding out what _she_ was thinking. You made some assumptions based on stuff April said, but you never came out and asked her what she wanted to do with her life, did you?"

"I didn't have to."

"Mike, I don't think this is just about holding her back. I think you're scared she wouldn't have wanted to give up everything to follow you."

"She shouldn't _have_ to," Mike said swiftly. "It isn't fair, not when she still has a chance to escape."

"What the shell does that mean? You make it sound like we're holding people captive."

"Not that we hold them against their will, no...But once they get in that deep, it's really hard to get out again. All the girls got so attached, it seemed like it'd be next to impossible for them to walk away. Things were different with me and Becky, she didn't know you guys, and she didn't have the time to..to get captured in our way of life. She had the chance to get away without being stuck, and I want to keep it that way."

Raphael's irritation came out with a growl, but the red-masked turtle strangely didn't say anything else. The two turtles were quiet the rest of the way, until they got to the familiar building they'd been sneaking into for years, starting with April back in the day. Donatello led the way up the fire-escape, and Mike noticed he already had his phone out in one hand, along with the keys in the other.

The purple-masked turtle let them in through the balcony door, and Michelangelo glanced around the empty apartment, puzzled when he didn't hear anything.

"Where are the guys?"

"Why don't you take a load off Mike, and Donny'll find out," Raphael said dismissively.

Donatello was already talking to someone on the phone, and Mike caught the tail-end of it as he sat down on the couch.

"...Yeah, we're _all_ here. Right, we'll make sure of that...Okay, bye."

"What's going on Donny? Where are they?" Michelangelo was thoroughly confused.

"They'll be here soon, they had to finish something up," Donatello answered simply.

Michelangelo glanced between Donny and Raphael, further bewildered when the two of them remained standing adjacent to the balcony door. "Why are you guys hanging out over there? What's going on here?"

Donatello took a step toward him, hesitating. "Mikey, don't freak out, okay?"

"Why would I freak out? Why won't you tell me anything?"

"Rebecca's on her way over," Donatello blurted out.

"What? She's coming _here_?" Michelangelo's voice soared with alarm, as his purple-masked brother sat down on the couch next to him.

"I'm sorry Mike, I knew we'd never get you here if I'd told you to begin with."

"You're serious? Guys no, I can't do this! I want to tell her the truth, but I can't see her this way."

"Mikey, that's not fair," Raphael objected fiercely. "This girl's got feelings for you, and she deserves to hear this stuff to her face, not in some dumb letter you might not ever get around to writing! It's time for you to 'man up'."

"You don't understand," Mike said a little more desperately. "It was hard enough the first time. I don't want her to get her hopes up coming here, like there's some chance it's gonna be fixed."

"Why are you so afraid of trying to make it work with her? Will you at least admit that part of it's fear Mike?" Raphael challenged him.

"I appreciate what you guys are trying to do, and if I was in your spot, I'd probably be doing the same thing. But my mind's already made up for how it has to be."

"It's not how it _has_ to be, it's how you're choosing for it to be," Donatello corrected.

"Whatever. The point is I'm upset, and I still miss her. If I have to see her right now, I'm gonna get weak. I can't afford for that to happen, I don't want to hurt her anymore than I already have!"

The orange-masked turtle bolted to his feet, sending a glance to the balcony door. "I can't stay. Call them back Donny, tell them I had to go. Just get me out of this."

"We can't do that Mike," Donatello replied. "Do you honestly want me to call Marc back, and have him tell Rebecca you refused to see her? Do you really think that wouldn't hurt her feelings too?"

"I don't know what you should say, but you guys started it, so you have to finish it!"

Mike made a move for the door, but his mountain of a red-masked brother blocked his path.

"You're not going anywhere shell-head, so sit back down."

"You can't force me to do this!"

"Mikey, you've got one of two choices right now. You can play along nice with Donny like a good boy, or we can do things_ my _way. What's it gonna be?"


	79. Compromise

*** I have to say that this intervention was partially inspired from a scene in the movie, "Failure to Launch". In that scenario the schemers involved actually watched the entire exchange via web cams set up all over the room. That would have been easy for Donatello to scrape together, but he decided to give his brother a _little_ dignity.**

**

* * *

**The plaintive voice-mail that Marcus had left on Rebecca's phone that morning had been too difficult for the young woman to ignore. After everything they'd been through together, it felt cruel to simply leave him hanging.

_All he wanted was dinner, and that wasn't bad at all, _Rebecca said to herself, as she gazed out the passenger window of the dark blue Avalanche that Marc and April had picked her up in.

They'd had a good meal, and noticeably avoided talking about the turtles at all. That suited her just fine; she didn't want to be forced to answer any more questions about her and Michelangelo.

"Becky, there's someplace else I'd like to go, before we take you home," Marc called from the front. "It's actually kind of important."

"What is it Marc?"

"I need to go by someone's building, one of the other men from our team that was almost killed that night. I promised I'd see if I could arrange a meeting."

"Well...um...yeah, okay. I guess that's fine," Rebecca faltered uncertainly.

"It's right around the corner. Would you mind going up with April, while I work on parking this monstrosity of a vehicle?"

"No, that's fine," she repeated, shooting a glance at the back of April's head.

The woman looked over her shoulder with a reassuring smile. "Thank you so much for coming out with us Becky."

"I enjoyed myself April, thanks for inviting me. I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you, I've just been feeling...discouraged."

"With any luck, that won't be permanent," April said sardonically, and turned to Marcus. "You can let us out here Marc, and I'll take her upstairs."

Inside the elevator on the way up, April fiddled with a couple of different keys on her cell-phone, and appeared frustrated with the device.

"Becky, do you mind if I see your phone for a minute? This really shouldn't be that difficult with mine, but I think I've dropped it one too many times."

"Will you be nice to it?" Rebecca couldn't resist asking, but willingly handed her phone over as the elevator stopped on their floor.

April led the way off, calmly directing her through the hall, and around another corner. The red-haired woman unlocked a door with her free hand, and motioned for Rebecca to go first.

"After you - I just need a second to finish this message."

Slightly mystified, Rebecca stepped through the open door, and was startled when it immediately clicked shut behind her.

"What the..._April_?" Her hand went to the door-knob, and she was further surprised when it refused to turn. "Hey! April!"

Rebecca knocked firmly on the door, but received no response. It was as if the woman had simply vanished into thin air, _with_ her phone. She looked around the apartment in complete confusion, with half a mind to start pounding on the door until someone let her out.

"Becky?"

A somewhat forlorn voice cut her off from going through with that plan, and made Rebecca freeze in her stance.

"Becky, is that you?"

"_Mike_? Where are you?"

"I'm close, just follow my voice."

Rebecca turned the corner from the living room, and jerked to a stop in the small space that separated it from the kitchen. The orange-masked turtle was firmly bound to a kitchen chair, with his arms at his sides. The supple material had been looped around his plastron too, and his legs were even tied down so that they couldn't reach the floor.

"Mike, are you _okay_? What happened?" Rebecca's fingers grazed the strange material, not at all feeling like the rope she'd expected. It was much softer, more reminiscent of leather.

"I'm okay," he breathed, looking more flushed with embarrassment than she could remember ever seeing. "It was my brothers - they didn't hurt me."

"Let me find a knife, or-"

"NO, don't cut them, Donny'll kill me! These restraints are his brainchild, he'd have my shell if something happened to them."

"Okay..." she said more slowly, sinking to the floor behind the turtle, so she could search for a way to get him loose without causing real damage to the bonds. "What's going on here Mike? It looks like somebody decided we needed to get together tonight. I think April locked me in and left."

"That's pretty much how it went with me too," he grunted. "If you can find the end pieces, there's a certain way you can tug it, and it'll give a little more."

Rebecca trailed over the material silently for a few moments longer, sucking in a sharp breath as she leaned into closer proximity with him. "I think I might have one. Let me try this."

As she continued working on getting him loose, she felt Michelangelo shudder in the chair.

"Becky, I'm sorry. I've been trying to figure out the best way to say it, but nothing good was coming."

Emboldened by the fact that she couldn't see his face, Rebecca rested a delicate hand on his shoulder, and decided to forgo untying him yet.

"Mike, what happened? Why on earth did you say those things?"

"Becky, I never wanted to hurt you."

The young woman came around front, to stand before the still-bound turtle. "That isn't what I asked you. I want the real reason. I can handle the truth Mike, I just can't handle you lying to me again."

"It was more real than anything I've ever felt," he said hoarsely. "And I didn't want to lose it. But I know that you've got a job to do, and I couldn't be the one to stop it. I'm _not _gonna stand in your way."

"This is about the Congo? Mike, _why _couldn't you just talk to me about this?"

"Because I didn't want to try and sway you either way."

"So you figured you'd take_ away _all the options."

"I was trying to do what's right for you."

"Then you haven't changed your mind. You'd still rather I walked away right now?"

"It's not _about_what I want Rebecca, that was never it at all."

"Mike, I'm not going to keep going in one gigantic circle with you. I need to know exactly how you feel."

"Becky, I don't want to make this harder than it should be. I could tell you that I want to be with you, but what then? What happens to everything else that really matters?"

"Mikey, why do you think that this has to be all or nothing? Is that how it is with your other human friends, or with your brothers' girls? None of them work, none of them even exist outside of their relationships with you?"

"Well, no, I mean...Most of 'em have jobs, sure, but it's different. I know you've been trying to get citizenship in the DRC. How does that go along with having a relationship with me?"

"I _have_ been trying to get citizenship Mike, but not all of my striving to get there was out of completely pure intentions. Those people will always move me, but I know that part of me was also running away. I had nothing to come back to in the United States, no reason to live here. That's simply not the case anymore."

"But how are you supposed to do them any good from all the way back here?"

"There are many ways to make a difference, without physically living there. Education and lobbying are a big part of it, but there's also an organizational effort that needs to be considered. I got a few ideas from talking with Donny on the way home, for a non-profit organization that would be focused on soil restoration. I have several contacts through my parent's old church circles, and it gives me a real jumping off point. I don't have to leave that dream behind, in order to pursue one with _you_," Rebecca finished emphatically.

"Do you understand what that really means?" Mike asked quietly. "Our lives are kinda...confined. Small, dark spaces, constantly hiding, and never having anything the normal way. Do you think it's worth all that?"

The young woman bent closer to his level on the chair, resting a hand on his shoulder again. "I already know what I want - you're the one who has to make a decision. Do you want me to leave? Say the word, and I'll walk out the door. If I can get it open that is. I'll leave, and I won't come back again."

"Don't make me choose_ for _you. I can't."

"Mike, you already chose for me once, and I have a feeling it didn't make either of us very happy."

Rebecca drew even closer, one hand now guiding his chin to look at her. "Tell me to stop. If you don't want it, say the word."

"Becky...please, I..."

"Say the word Mike," she whispered.

Tears rose afresh in his blue eyes, but he didn't speak. Without further hesitation, she closed her eyes and kissed him, then drew back slightly with a racing heart.

"If you don't want it, then say so. That's all you have to say; one little word. Stop."

The orange-masked turtle shivered as her arms laced around his neck, and met her gaze for a couple more mute seconds. "I d-don't...I can't say that," he stammered. "I don't want you to stop, I never-"

Rebecca cut him off with a more lingering kiss, which he returned that time.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I hurt you! You can be mad at me, you don't have to just take me back like I wasn't the biggest shell-head of all time!"

"'Love covers over a multitude of sins'. I don't _want _to be mad at you Mikey. I just want a chance with you. Will you give me that much?"

Michelangelo nodded shakily. "I've been miserable without you. Every day dragged on like a year, and it was all I could do to get through them. I didn't know it could happen this fast, that I could feel..."

He didn't finish, but it didn't seem necessary to her.

"I didn't expect this anymore than you did. Then when we got back, I had this incredibly awkward moment in that hangar, wondering if I could even fit in with the rest of you. Those girls are so beautiful - you have no idea what it feels like to stand next to them."

"Hey," Michelangelo said sharply. "_You're_ beautiful. You have to stop comparing apples to oranges. You all look different from each other, but that doesn't make one of you less good-looking than the others. I was...I was so attracted to you right from the start, I could hardly walk in a straight line."

Rebecca giggled in spite of herself. "That's sweet, but _really_ now."

"Really nothing. I don't wanna hear you down yourself, okay? I wouldn't let someone else talk about you like that, and I'm not letting you do it either."

Rebecca threw both arms around him again, simply embracing the turtle without saying another word. She held on, until Michelangelo cleared his throat softly.

"Hey Beck? Could you like, maybe...finish untying me?"

The young woman laughed so hard that it made her stomach hurt. "I guess I could do that. Hold on a minute, and let me get back to work on these knots."

"There's something else I could use your help with too Becky," the turtle mentioned, as she reached for the end piece she'd located minutes before.

"What is it Mikey?"

He squirmed muscular arms with some discomfort, but then tried to stay still so he wouldn't hamper her efforts.

"I'm gonna have to deal with Raph and Donny over this. Even nosy brothers with good intentions can't be allowed to get away scot free," he answered with a devious smile.


	80. Love & Retaliation

Raphael led the way back inside the apartment, and glanced around bewildered when he didn't see anyone.

"Did they already leave Donny?"

"I don't know Raph." The purple-masked turtle shrugged. "All his text said, was 'I hope you're happy'. That could honestly go either way."

Raphael sighed heavily. "I hope we didn't just make matters worse. What'd you make me tie him up for?"

"That was _your_ idea, and you know it!"

"Maybe," Raph allowed. "But you still helped."

"Guilty."

Rebecca suddenly appeared in the hallway, and made a couple quick strides toward them.

"Donny, can you c'mere, fast? There's something...well, I just have to show you!"

Donatello darted her direction, and Raphael's feet nearly left the ground to follow, before a cry interrupted him.

"Raph, I need you!" Michelangelo's slightly panicked tone carried over from the darkened kitchen.

Raphael spun on heel and raced towards the kitchen, his hand striking the switch on the outside wall to provide light for the space. He dashed inside and caught sight of Michelangelo perched on the _counter_ of all places, right before his legs shot out from underneath him on the strangely slippery surface of the kitchen floor.

Raphael crashed flat on his shell in shock right before a dark colored wave swept toward him, and washed over his plastron in the blink of an eye. He hardly managed to close his eyes before it dashed over his face, and a bellow of rage escaped him as he rubbed at the gummy substance adhering to his skin. The turtle fought to get his legs under him, but the slick application already on the floor hopelessly slowed his progress.

He'd just managed to slide partially around and gotten his knees firmly planted, when a second wave collided with him, this one smacking into the back of his head, before it finished coating his shell in the same syrupy concoction he was _already_ covered in. Raphael had at least maintained his balance on his knees, and renewed the effort to get up as a white cloud descended on top of him. He choked once as it came to rest like new fallen snow over his entire frame. The turtle snarled furiously as he tried to leap to his feet, but the speed of the lunge only succeeded in planting him back on his face.

"Hey Raphy," he heard Michelangelo chortle from the safety of the counter top. "I'm baaaaaaaaaack."

"You...little..._cretin_! I'm gonna KILL you!"

Raphael was still trying to extricate limbs that felt like they were stuck to the floor, when he heard pounding foot-steps leading up to the kitchen.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you Donny!" Michelangelo called out, and Raphael jerked his head toward the door, to see his purple-masked brother covered in a small mountain of what looked like shaving cream.

Donatello wisely refrained from coming inside the kitchen, a startled laugh escaping him when he saw Raphael. "I'm trying to figure out if this is a good thing or not."

"Well_ stop _trying, and find something to smack him with!" Raphael seethed.

* * *

Michelangelo was having a difficult time keeping his snickering out of earshot, as his red-masked brother swiped at the residue that was obviously irritating the back of his neck. Raphael whirled around to fix him with a hot glare.

"What'd I say numbskull? One more peep, and you'll be eating my fist!"

Mike had to swiftly avert his gaze to stifle laughter at the mere sight of Raphael, still coated in flour over a thick layer of the stickiest substances he could rustle up on the fly from the kitchen in the apartment.

Rebecca seemed to be straining to keep a straight face beside Mike. "I hope his bark is worse than his bite," she said under her breath.

"Nah Beck, the bite is _definitely_ worse," Mike hissed back. "But he doesn't usually chomp down that hard on members of the family."

"Where does that leave me?" she had to ask, and Michelangelo faced her with a comforting blue gaze.

"Our friends _are _family Becky. You're one of us now, so you'll have to adjust to the many moods of Raph."

"Just let me know when to duck and cover."

"I doubt I'll have to tell ya, but I'll try to speak up just in case."

The young woman reached for him, and Michelangelo pulled her close so he could kiss her.

"Yeah, where's the thanks, huh?" Raphael demanded. "We forced your shell to get together with her, and this is what we get? Why is Donny _taking_ so long? He shouldn't have gone first," he growled.

"He won the coin toss," Greg pointed out with a grin.

"I'm still bigger than him! It was fixed anyway, I'm sure of it," Raphael proclaimed, and turned an evil eye back on his brother.

"I don't know what you're talking about Raph. How could I fix a coin?"

"I don't know how, I just know you did! And he didn't get it anywhere near as bad as this!"

Michelangelo forced the chuckle back down before it could erupt. "Just your luck Raph," he said sweetly.

The red-masked turtle stamped a foot angrily, as he tried hard to shake off residual flour.

"Raph, stop it!" Greg ordered. "You do that one more time, and you can wait on the balcony until the shower is free."

"What are you getting irritated with _me _for Heff? I'm not the one who turned your kitchen into a war-zone!"

"Don't you take one more step toward that couch!" Brandon said warningly.

"Or what Bran? You wanna risk coming near me right now?" Raphael taunted, and the man took a single step backward.

"Stop picking on our friends Grumpy," Donatello directed as he entered the room. "It's all yours' Raph."

"It took you long enough!"

Michelangelo finally allowed another real laugh to surface as Raphael retreated. As it finished, another wave of exhaustion hit the orange-masked turtle, causing him to lurch slightly.

"You all right Mikey?" Rebecca asked immediately.

"Yeah, just tired. This the longest 'outing' I've had for awhile, and I'm still not all there," he admitted.

"Mike, come and sit down," Donatello said at once.

"In a few minutes Don, there's stuff to clean up."

"Forget about it. I don't want you falling over on us," Donatello told him.

Michelangelo shot Rebecca a toothy grin. "Aw, he's so good to me, right?"

"_Only _because you've been really sick Mike. We probably pushed it too much tonight as it was, but all's well that ends well I suppose."

"Hey, I'll take whatever I can get." Michelangelo slowly lowered into the recliner.

"I'll help you Donny, I did participate after all," Rebecca volunteered, giving the purple-masked turtle a somewhat silly smile.

"She gotcha pretty good, huh Genius?" Mike laughed.

"Oh yeah Becky, you're going to fit in with this group just fine," Donatello answered wryly. "If this is any indication of things to come, we're all going to have to be on our toes even more often."

Rebecca shrugged nonchalantly, and rested a hand on Michelangelo's shell fondly. "You guys will have to take it easy on me. I don't normally do that well in a group setting."

"Nobody stays a stranger around us for very long," Donny assured her, and his head jerked up when there was a knock at the door to the hall.

Michelangelo was just about to bolt to his feet, when the sound was followed by the usual signal, indicating that it was someone they knew. The orange-masked turtle breathed a little easier, as Brandon trotted to open the door.

"What took you so long?" Brandon asked, as he swung it open wider to allow Marc and April inside.

Marcus held up his hands helplessly. "The text took ridiculously long to get to me for some reason. What the heck happened in here?" He whistled.

"Retaliation," Mike offered. "You want some Marc?"

"No, that's okay. I can see myself out," the man replied swiftly.

"Aw, sit down dude. You've been through enough in this last month," Mike said a little more sympathetically. "You don't wanna punish him, do ya Beck?"

The young woman shook her head. "No, he gets a free pass from me on this one, even if he _did_ help set all of this up. Am I going to get my phone back though?"

April smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Becky. We wanted to force the two of you into having a fighting chance."

"You could have told me what you were up to," Rebecca said dryly. "I wanted to see him; _he's_ the one who had to be all difficult."

Rebecca lightly punched his shoulder, and the turtle captured her by the arm.

"But I'm gonna make it up to you," Mike said hopefully.

"It might take awhile," she replied teasingly, and allowed the turtle to pull her down to his level.

For an instant, Mike almost forgot about the others entirely, as he felt himself getting lost in the endless blue-green pools gazing at him. He gave a soft tug on one of her curls in an effort to help her relax more, and her smile suddenly wasn't as shy as it had been. Half a beat later she threw all caution to the wind, as she kissed him like no one else was there.

Michelangelo felt _himself_ coloring at her intensity, but shrugged it off as quickly as he could with a grin. "That could be addicting," he warned her, and then cast a glance around the rest of the room. "I'd like to thank all of you for sponsoring this evening," he cracked.

As Rebecca rose, April came forward and offered the woman another embrace.

"I didn't hurt your phone, I promise. I'm glad you're here Becky. There's a lot to catch up on, but something tells me you'll have fun doing it."

"Oh, I don't doubt that."

Donatello looked down at _his_ phone suddenly, and tapped a button on the keypad. "Hey Marc?" Donatello said curiously after perusing the screen. "Jen said to say 'I told you so'. What's that about?"

"Nothing, she just made a lucky guess." Marcus laughed.

"You'll have to explain that at some point," Donatello told him. "Well, this room isn't going to clean itself. Any more volunteers to give a turtle a hand?"

"Heff, remind me to send you guys some sugar, okay?" Mike asked suddenly.

"You wiped out our sugar too? What, the syrup wasn't sweet enough alone?"

"No, see, I had to use it for the base of everything. How'd you think I got the coating to stretch so far?"

"Uh...I don't know."

"I made simple syrup on the stove first; it's really easy. You boil equal parts sugar and water until it dissolves: boom, perfect sticky base to add everything else too. That concludes today's 'Cooking with Mikey' tips."

The following hour passed with a lot of stifled laughter and intentionally muffled footsteps, as the growing group tried not to make an obscene disturbance that could be heard by other tenants. It was close to 1AM when there was a light scratching on the balcony door, and the blue-masked turtle was revealed behind it.

"Hey guys. Boy, I missed the party, didn't I?"

"Not really Fearless, it ain't exactly over yet." Raphael thumped him on the shell. "How's your girl tonight?"

Leonardo beamed in a way that was so satisfied, Mike couldn't keep from smiling too.

"That good huh?" Raph asked.

Leonardo nodded, but didn't bother elaborating. "What's the story here? Are we going to have another induction?"

"If you guys will have me," Rebecca said glibly.

She seemed surprised when the blue-masked turtled reached to hug her.

"Getting in won't be a problem, but good luck trying to escape," he said sardonically. "Welcome to the Hamato clan."

* * *

The night was wearing on, but Rebecca wasn't noticing any new weariness on her part. She could read Mike's exhaustion from the way he was slouching against the arm-chair back underground, but he seemed so peaceful that it hardly mattered. She hadn't had any desire to return to Brooklyn after leaving the men's apartment, not feeling the need to leave Michelangelo anytime in the near future.

Rebecca had been surprised by the complexity of their underground dwelling, and had taken in everything with interest throughout the tour. Jenna and Karina were waiting up when they got there, and seemed pretty indignant that it had taken them so long to arrive. But they greeted Rebecca warmly for the second time, and the young woman silenced the intimidating thoughts that were swirling around her mind.

The four turtles and three women lingered together in the living area for awhile, settling down from their eventful evening. Rebecca's gaze rested on Donatello sitting on the other end of the couch, with Jenna huddled up against him. There was such tenderness in the way he smoothed jet-black hair from her forehead, she almost felt ashamed for watching.

Her eyes shifted to Raphael, looking as placid as she'd ever seen him, sprawled in the oversized chair with Karina. The tough turtle looked anything but at that moment, with a captivated look that expressed his adoration for the woman more than words probably could have. While she watched, the red-masked turtle nudged the woman.

"I think we could call it a night," he offered.

The smile Karina gave him was slightly suggestive, and Rebecca ducked her head shyly as she looked away.

"Get some rest, will ya Mike?" Raphael remarked. "I'm dying for some of your cooking. Not that I don't love _yours_' babe," he added for Karina's benefit.

"He has to say that, because we're married," Karina cracked.

"No, seriously Becky, Kari's a great cook too," Michelangelo said on her behalf.

"Well, if anyone wants to eat tomorrow, this room had better clear out in the next few minutes," Karina directed with her hands on her hips.

"I'm glad to know I hooked the Den Mother." Raphael smirked, and ducked his wife's flying swat. "I ain't as slow as your brother Kari, you've gotta do better than that."

Leonardo stretched languidly, and flashed another relieved smiled in Rebecca's direction.

_Amazing. They're all so glad I'm here, as if I'm doing them some giant favor, _Rebecca mused.

"Seriously Mike, you need to be in bed," Leonardo said firmly.

"Yeah, I 'spose you can't give the prisoner a little more yard-time," Mike responded.

"You'll get all the 'yard-time' you want, _after _you're completely better," Donatello spoke up.

Rebecca walked Michelangelo upstairs, while Jenna prepared a bed for her down the hall. The turtle climbed the staircase a little slowly, and she waited patiently behind him.

"So...this is home," Mike stated, as he dropped onto the mattress in his room. "It's not much, but the company can't be beat."

"You guys have done well for yourselves."

"We have Donny to thank for that, and the girls brought some of their touches along too."

He reached for her hand, and she laced her fingers around his with an indiscernible expression.

"What are you thinking right now?" Michelangelo asked her.

"I can't believe you chose me."

A snort left the orange-masked turtle, as if it was the funniest thing he'd heard all night. "Who are you kidding? You chose _me_."

Rebecca settled on her knees by his bed with yet another wistful gaze.

"_Now _what are you thinking?"

"I don't know when I've ever been this happy Mike. Not for a long time anyway. I hope you don't think you're getting rid of me," she added impishly.

"Nope, I'm done choosing for you," Mike said with certainty. "I shoulda listened to Donny to start with. I'm sorry it took days and them tying me up to make it happen."

"The important thing isn't to focus on the mistakes we've made Mike. It's how we recover from them that really matters. No one's ever going to be perfect, least of all me. But I'm willing to fight for it now, so if you try to push me off again, you'll have a battle on your hands."

Rebecca pressed her cheek strongly against the green hand that was cradling it, and sighed contentedly. Back inside of the city she'd been longing to escape for good, she finally felt like she was home.


	81. Innocence & Miracles

*** Wow, it's a weird feeling to be here, at the end of it all. It feels like I've been working on this story forever, because I actually took the time to write it _before _I started to release it. Michelangelo was a riot to work with, and I'd looked forward to moving with this plot ever since the end of Resolution.**

**It's the end of this story, but not the end of the series. Coming up next is Reunions, something new and different for me. It's technically a Oneshot, because it only has fifteen chapters, but it still fits within my normal storyline. It will bridge a small but important gap between Unbreakable and Redemption. It's Christmas themed, so you can expect to see it start appearing December 1st. Yes, people, it's only a month and a half away. Does that scare anyone? This fic is very special to me, for personal reasons.**

**Coming in January, all I can say is hold onto your hats. I'm about half-way into writing Redemption, and will start releasing it after the first of the year. It's going to feature the Raph/Leo combo, though as usual, Donny is really horning in. I can't seem to escape the purple-masked turtle. It's 'cause he knows he's my favorite. But I'm not going to convince him to like me better through this fic, that's for sure.**

**I mentioned a few chaps back that I was considering ways to celebrate meeting a milestone with this fic as far as reviews are concerned. My "gift" will immediately follow this chapter, in the form of a small _taste _of Redemption. You'll probably feel like killing me rather than thanking me. But I have to thank all of you. Thanks for supporting my humble fic, sticking with me through the journey, and daily encouraging me. It's truly appreciated, and makes me that much more eager to have Redemption done on time.**

**Another huge thank you to my betas, Mikell, Jadedolphin, and Fire in the Ice. You've helped to refine and inspire me, and made me determined to never go without having a beta again. This story wouldn't have been the same without you. You're all too awesome for words.**

**

* * *

**

(One Month Later)

"...Hold onto my voice Calley, don't drift too far," Leonardo instructed the young woman in front of him on the mat. "You're in a safe place, where nothing can hurt you. There's nothing but peace surrounding you. Are you calm?"

Calley nodded soberly, not even stirring when his arm came around her back, though it had actually startled her.

"Before you learn anything physical from me, it's absolutely necessary that you have that kind of control Calley. That's why I've been leading you through these mental exercises first. The most basic elements of self defense will come next, but I want to do something different this afternoon. Your own ballet experience is going to come in handy right now - and I want you to be able to rely on what you already know. Sometimes the greatest strength you can acquire comes in being able to let go, and dancing is one of the times when you're most_ yourself_. I'm going to turn something on, and I want you just to start moving - whatever feels right to you. There are no wrong steps, and this isn't some weird test in disguise. I just want to see you let go."

Her brown eyes were already closed, but she heard the faintest strain of music begin, signifying that he'd hit the remote. Calley moved in an awkward circle, all the more intimidated by having him standing there watching.

"Don't think about it, and don't focus on _me_," Leonardo said. "You know what to do - your body is already an expert at this type of movement. Stop being afraid and let go."

Shutting down the constantly critical voice in her mind required an act of sheer will, but she felt the lines in her forehead relax as she did. Her body simply swayed from side to side as she fell in line with the rhythm, and then started to interpret what she felt from the music into motion. Calley performed a tight pirouette, but the action felt too limited for what the freedom of the melody was conveying to her.

Her feet left the ground in a small leap, and she spiraled back down to the mat, feeling decidedly out of control. She didn't care. The ease of the spontaneous dance increased as she forgot her inhibitions, rejecting the judgmental claim that she was making a fool out of herself. When the tempo increased she naturally followed it, though she didn't even have the presence of mind in the moment to realize that it had changed.

Calley _felt_ the music in every fiber of her being, felt the joy and hopefulness that pulsated with every twisting leap and arc of her outstretched arms. It was pure wholesomeness on a deeper level than she normally had access to; so much of that former innocence had been wrecked beyond recognition.

The fleeting dark thought caused her dance to falter, and made her ache for a time when she'd lived in real peace. Calley's body suddenly sagged, slumping under the weight of the darkness she still carried inside her. The young woman collapsed on the mat with her legs underneath her, and welling tears in her eyes.

The music stopped, and she sensed Leonardo join her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him yet. They sat in silence for a few seconds, but Leonardo's hand softly found her arm.

"You're so much closer than you think you are Calley. You _can't _give up on this."

"You don't understand what it's like," she whispered. "You haven't been where I've been. You've faced down more combined evil than I've ever seen, but you've never had to _live_ in it, partaking of it day in and day out. What I willingly gave up and everything they stole from me, they're things that I can't recover, no matter how much time passes. I'll never be innocent again, and I'll never be completely free of fear. And they're _still _out there, corrupting young women for every second that we sit here. You don't know what they do to them!" Calley finished with a breaking voice, and dissolved into a sob.

The blue-masked turtle didn't say anything, but his arms came strongly around her, as if he was trying to absorb some of the weight she was bearing.

"I know I should be trying to forget the Akiudo, but I can't. I know too much Leonardo, about how their victims, their _slaves _suffer, and that's before they're even sold! Why can't the authorities catch them? Why can't they STOP them?" Her hand beat harmlessly against the turtle's plastron in frustration.

"They're trying Calley," Leonardo answered softly. "Greg's contact in Okinawa is still attempting to track their movement, and build a real case against them. It may seem like a small effort, but not everyone has forgotten about them, or given up searching for evidence. Greg's not about to let this go either - I've heard him still obsessing over finding them."

"And what if it doesn't do any good? What if nothing anyone does can do _any_ good?"

His lips covered hers suddenly, and she fell further into his embrace.

"I wouldn't say _nothing _good came from our family meeting the Akiudo," Leonardo told her.

Calley brushed tears away, and rested her head against the blue-masked turtle's chest. "I'll be lost if you let go of me," she murmured.

"I'm not doing that Calley - not ever."

* * *

"_Gochiso sama deshita_." Rebecca proclaimed to the orange-masked turtle, as he reached to steal her plate from her before she could take it to the sink herself.

"_Dou itashimashite_. I've got it Beck - you just get back to work, huh? Proposals don't write themselves," Mike replied impishly.

"_You_ go ahead and leave it Mike, Jen and I will take care of everything," Donatello offered from where he and his wife were still lingering over the remnants of the late lunch.

Michelangelo whooped his own appreciation, and disappeared out of the kitchen with Rebecca in front of him.

"She's picking it up fast, isn't she?" Jenna remarked.

"Did I tell you she finally took that test for me?" Donatello asked. "I'm pretty sure she knew exactly what it was for, but I managed to wear her down. I had a feeling that her language acuity wasn't simply based on being raised inside that environment."

"I'm guessing you were right?"

"Her language comprehension skills and memory retention are completely off the chart; I don't know if I could accurately measure them. We've been working on phrasing in Japanese, in addition to individual wording. Her pronunciation is already spot on, and she seems serious about going the full nine yards with it. I'd bet money she'll end up speaking it better than Mike or Raph," he couldn't resist adding.

Jenna shook her head at Donatello with a tolerant smile. "I know, she's your little prodigy. If she and Mike were any less into each other, I might get jealous."

"It certainly hasn't taken long for her to get more comfortable." Donatello grinned. "It's cool that Rebecca's not shy about how she feels either. I honestly think that part of her is so relieved it's going somewhere, that she doesn't care who sees it." The purple-masked turtle paused to laugh. "Mike's just beside himself; I absolutely love it."

"You're not the only one," Jenna replied, as she rose from the table, and held out a hand for his plate. "Somehow, things feel so much more _complete_ this way."

Donatello caught her by the arm instead of letting her take the dish, and pulled her back toward him. Jenna dropped into his lap, and leaned confidingly against him.

"Did you ever think we'd get here?" she asked him, and he shook his head.

"It would have been impossible to picture Jen. You know the thing about Becky, is that she was already living in New York City. But at the same time, there's no guarantee that they ever would have met through a natural course of events. All of us had to travel thousands of miles, and go through the most insane circumstances, only to end up back where we originated from.

What if Leo hadn't sent Mike along with her, what if he'd directed me or Raph instead? We make a hundred little choices in a day, and have no idea how any number of them could completely change our lives."

"You can say that again," Jenna agreed. "But you're not getting out of the country so easily without me again."

"Trust me Jen, it wouldn't have been worth it for you to be stuck out there in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where to go. There wasn't anything you could have done."

She cocked her head at the turtle. "I would have been _with_ you. Don't you realize that's enough?"

His arms tightened around her waist. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You're a silly turtle Donny." She laughed, and bent in to kiss him.

As they finally took the dishes to the sink a couple of minutes later, the sound of new voices carried over from the living area.

"That sounds like Doc," Donatello remarked.

As if he knew his name had been uttered, Luke ducked into the room a few seconds later.

"Hey you two, what's going on?"

"Hi Doc, just the usual," Donny greeted him. "Is there an occasion, or is this for pure enjoyment?"

"Um...well, there's kind of a reason. I thought we could get to that later. We have a lot to talk about, but it can wait for awhile yet."

Donatello's brow furrowed at the man. "Why don't you just tell me what's going on?"

"All in good time Donny. I need a little patience from you, all right?"

Donatello folded his arms across his chest, as Jenna swatted at his shell.

"Are you going to help me finish this or not Donny?" she teased him.

The purple-masked turtle gave Luke another cross look, but then turned back around to help Jenna at the sink.

"Y'know Donny, with all your technical genius, I'd think you could invent some new fangled machine that would wash the dishes _for_ you," Jenna said pointedly.

Donatello chuckled softly. "Sensei always said that doing it ourselves built character. Who am I to interfere with that?"

Jenna threw the rag at him, and he snatched it out of mid-air before it caught him in the face.

"Not bad for the reflexes either." She giggled.

"I'm going to _show_ you some reflexes in a minute here."

* * *

Raphael rolled his eyes at Michelangelo, as the orange-masked turtle crouched on the floor, trying to coax Reina up onto her knees.

"C'mon baby - you can do it, just like me!"

"Mike, the kid obviously ain't ready to crawl yet. Do you think cooing at her all day is gonna make a difference?" Raphael scoffed.

"It doesn't hurt to encourage her," Mike returned.

"He's right Raph, girls are supposed to develop faster than boys do," Karina added.

"Who made up that rule?" Raphael asked.

Karina shrugged. "It's not like I have any experience with it."

"Well, that's not completely true," Mike pointed out. "_You're_ a girl after all."

"And you can remember being a baby perfectly, right Kari?" Raphael snorted.

Karina tossed her bronze hair in a knowing gesture. "Doesn't everybody?"

Michelangelo settled down closer to Reina on the rug, and the baby curiously reached around to explore the belt around his waist, the grabbed for the smooth handle of one of his nunchucks.

"You'll have to grow into those Reina. I'll teach ya though - they're the best weapons a guy can carry."

"Keep dreaming pipsqueak," Raphael announced, and gave Karina a lop-sided grin when her light green eyes sought out contact with him.

There was something nervous in that gaze that he didn't understand; but then, she'd been acting a little strangely over the last few days as it was.

Michelangelo rose from the floor, and drew Reina up with him.

"I'm gonna check how my girl's faring. Reina said she wanted you Raphy."

Raphael took the little girl from him, snorting softly when she automatically reached for the tails of his mask again.

"She really likes the color red now, doesn't she?" the turtle commented, but didn't bother disengaging her fingers from it.

"It's a new thing for her," Karina explained. "Luke says they start seeing a broader spectrum of colors around this phase. You seem like you're doing a lot better with her."

"Yeah, well...I guess I'm okay, long as she isn't crying. _Somebody's_ gonna have to teach this kid the stuff that she actually needs to know."

When Reina tugged harder, he lightly separated her hand from his mask, and shook his head at the baby.

"You need to save that for Mikey kid," he informed her. "Get used to beating up on him."

Raphael looked up from his one-sided conversation, to see Karina fidgeting on the couch in an unusual manner.

"Kari, what's wrong? You've been acting funny for days. Why are you looking so nervous over here?"

Karina looked like she could have been considering something hard, as she slipped onto the edge of the couch.

"You enjoy Reina, don't you Raph?"

"Sure, she's a good kid. What's not to like about her? Besides the diapers and the crying of course, but they grow out of that, right?" he cracked, his smile widening when the baby squealed at him. "But I was asking about _you_ Kari. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You don't have to be afraid - just say it. Am I getting on your nerves?"

A surprised laugh escaped her. "No Raph, that's not it. I wanted to talk to you before, but I didn't know for sure what was going on, and I didn't know how you'd take it."

"How I'd take what?"

"I went up to the surface this morning so Luke could help confirm something."

"Karina, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick or something? Why aren't you just telling me?"

"Raphael, I'm pregnant."

His heart actually skipped a beat. "You've been with somebody?" He could hardly get the words out intelligibly.

"Yeah, I've been with somebody doofus. _You, _and only you."

"B-but that's not 'spose to..._How_? Donny didn't think that could happen."

Karina held up both arms, as if to signify her own ignorance on the matter. "It happened Raph. That's all I can tell you."

"Is it...but how does this work? What kinda shape would the kid be in?" The questions were rhetorical - he didn't expect her to really have an answer.

The woman shook her head. "I don't know. There's no telling if it would even survive, there are so many unknown factors. But if it makes it..."

Raphael was gripped with a very different fear than he'd ever felt before, but he forced a brave smile for Karina. "If it makes it, that'll make you the most beautiful Mom on the planet."

Her fingers gripped his free hand that wasn't holding onto Reina.

"I'm scared Raph, I'm afraid to get my hopes up. And I didn't know how you'd feel about it..."

"I'm kind of still in shock right now Kari...but I wouldn't say I'd hate it." He gave her the same half-smile that he felt she really needed to see.

Raphael exhaled softly and looked down Reina once more.

_I wouldn't hate it at all._


	82. Preview

***As promised, here is a preview of what's to come in Redemption. No hate mail please. ;)**

* * *

Donatello felt like he was sweating buckets. Fighting off the outside advances from the Monitoring Company at the same time as he strove to get control of the network had been an exercise in sheer brainpower. His beleaguered mind felt like it was about to explode, but he still felt some satisfaction. Despite their best efforts to kick him out, he had succeeded in not being pinned down, and finished the project so necessary to getting the others out. Yet part of him was afraid to give up the fight even now, as if letting go of the reigns for a moment could cause him to lose control of the facility again.

He swiped a hand across his aching head, shaking off the beads of sweat that came with it. Donatello cast a look over at the steel door that was opposite from the desk, and wished he could hear something of what was going on outside. It was bad enough not being able to see, but the heavy construction of the door didn't allow for sound to pass through either. He'd locked it down to outside intruders, and was now waiting for Leonardo's phone call.

The purple-masked turtle fingered his phone, as he considered trying Leonardo again himself. Common sense told him his brother was tied up and would contact him when he could, but Donatello felt uneasy. He braced both arms against the desk, and stretched out sore shoulder muscles.

_I miss Jenna_, he thought fleetingly. _She'd knock that out right quick_.

Donatello's gaze returned to the computer, as a flashing indicator informed him that Security was closing in on his signal again.

_Persistent little bugger, aren't you? Well, good luck shutting _this _down_.

Donatello intentionally laid a path for the tech this time, luring him to follow his digital signature like bait on a string. He laughed softly as the man on the other end unwittingly downloaded the virus that he'd just finished planting on the server.

"Enjoy."

His chuckle was cut short, by what sounded like a miniature explosion out in the hall. As surprising as the sound was, he wasn't prepared to see the door crushed inward against the opposite wall. The purple-masked turtle dropped into a crouch behind the desk, fear pouring through his veins like ice water. For a few seconds he heard nothing; not until several sets of feet entered the room at once. There was no way he could remain hidden, and whoever was out there had just cut off his only escape-route.

Donatello rose with a huge sense of resignation, but he was not expecting the sight that was lurking under the dim emergency lights. The turtle blinked several times like the nightmare could simply disappear. To his dismay, the scene remained unchanged. The woman that coolly controlled the men behind her was unmistakable, as was the group's identity. _Akiudo._

A sinking feeling in his stomach made him feel like throwing up, but he dropped into a defensive posture instead. His hand slowly strayed toward the watch on his other wrist, before a cold warning was shouted out.

"Do not move demon!"

Donatello stared at the figures dully for a few seconds, and then determination surged once more.

_Injured or not, I'm still a ninja, and I'm not backing down without a fight._

The turtle drew his bo with a defiant glare, and faced down the warriors with all the strength he had left.

"Drop your weapon," Yukiko ordered.

Donatello bristled under the sound of the hated woman's voice. "_Never_," he returned fiercely.

"Take a few steps toward me demon - I am sure that you will see things my way."

"Not going to happen."

"Then you do not care what happens to your brother?"

Donatello's stomach churned anew._ Leonardo_...

"Where is he?" he demanded.

Shadows parted in front of him, to allow a looming figure to approach. Donatello recognized the formidable warrior, but it was the sight of his oldest brother clutched over his shoulder that made his heart stop.

Yukiko withdrew her weapon, and the cold blade of the naginata glittered as it caught the light.

"What say you demon? Shall I kill your brother? He will not be the first one of you to die by my blade."

Donatello steadied his outward reaction with tremendous difficulty. _She really believes she killed Raph last time._

Yukiko whipped around her weapon toward Leonardo so fast that a cry leaped automatically leaped from Donatello.

"_No_!"

She gazed back at Donatello, but left the tip of her naginata resting under Leonardo's chin.

"Lay down your weapon, or he will perish."

"Don't do something hasty here! We're more valuable to you alive than we are dead!" Donatello pointed out.

"Yes - _one_ of you is at least."

The memory of what she'd done to Raphael with that blade was still fresh in Donatello's mind. He released the grip on his bo, and the dull sound it made when it collided with the floor resounded loudly in his ears.

"Do _not_ resist us," she commanded.

Donatello held out both arms in silent surrender, as two men came forward boldly. He shook slightly as they yanked him across the room. Donatello's balance was already off kilter, and the violence in their grip made him stumble. They made no attempt to catch him, allowing the turtle to collapse on his knees close to where Daichi had dropped Leonardo.

The raspy quality to his brother's breathing was instantly alarming. Eyes flashing, he glared over at Yukiko.

"What have you done to him? Why is h-mmph!"

With a flick of her wrist Yukiko motioned to someone behind him, and a rag was jerked into his mouth before he could utter another sound. He growled under the material at the warriors that were snapping his wrists behind his shell, and one of the men turned a hefty kick into his injured rib cage. Donatello's moan was mostly muffled by the rag.

Donatello tensed as he sensed rapid movement, but the blow wasn't aimed for _him_. Daichi caught his attacker with a crushing drive, sending him into the far wall with a violence that was shocking to see. Donatello's eyes widened in confusion.

"_No one touches the Shitenno_," Yukiko stated darkly. "_Pick him up_."

The purple-masked turtle was dragged upright, and found himself staring directly into her soulless eyes.

"You will make the perfect prize for Master Takashi," she informed him. "_Brothers, we have what is required. We must make haste and disappear, before the authorities overwhelm this place_."

Donatello strained to keep sight of Leonardo, but was unable to see how his brother was faring. He was captured himself by two warriors, who jostled him roughly in-between them. Deadly anger warred with desperate fear, as he searched for a way to get them out of this.


End file.
